


The Hippie Cult

by Marfacat



Series: Starscream But In Really Weird Scenarios [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Desecration of body parts for revenge purposes, Gen, Gratituous use of Robot vocabulary, Lots of robot swearing, Starscream being Starscream, Starscream is a creepy little weirdo and I adore him, abuse tw, except it’s just Starscream learning to be a healthier person, he’s not sorry about committing Crimes, keep in mind that this is a prison designed by Optimus Prime, starscream goes to therapy, this is sort of a redemption story?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 52,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marfacat/pseuds/Marfacat
Summary: The Decepticons lost the war and went to prison. Starscream, ironically, has never felt more free. He proceeds to have an identity crisis.Alternatively titled ‘Starscream Slips, Trips, and Falls Ass-First Into a Pile of Christmas.’AU where the war ends sometime in season two, before Starscream could get his mitts on the Omega Keys.





	1. Starscream Goes to Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not going to pretend I know anything about prison or the field of psychology, this is just for fun. At first, I wanted to write something in which Starscream gets some advice and help, and it turned into something ridiculous. Please leave comments and kudos if you liked it, it motivates me!

The therapist wasn’t entirely certain how to approach his new patient. He also wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected.

Perhaps an angry, violent, screeching menace, based on the rumors he’d heard of the cruel, ruthless air commander while tucked away in his quiet little colony of neutrals.

Certainly not the hunched, disgruntled character that was shoved into the room in stasis cuffs, looking as if he’d accidentally dropped his daily rations all over his pedes rather than having been sentenced to life in prison.

He was short for a seeker, but taller than the average grounder, and gangly but graceful. He seemed to exist in a state of perpetual inconvenience, if his put-upon expression was anything to judge by.

“I presume you’re Starscream?” The therapist said. The seeker rolled his optics.

“If I say ‘no,’ do I get to leave?”

“No,” said the therapist through gritted denta, forcing a polite smile. “Please, have a seat.” Starscream complied daintily, facing sideways so as not to crush his wings on the back of the couch.

There was an awkward silence. Starscream picked at his claws. The therapist reset his vocalizer.

“So,” He said, fidgeting, “I was thinking we could start with you telling me a little bit about yourself?” Starscream didn’t look up.

“No.”

“Ah.” The therapist fidgeted again. “Why not?” Starscream rolled his optics and scoffed.

“I suppose I’m just not in a _talking mood,_” Starscream sneered. The therapist grit his denta again, trying not to express his dwindling patience.

“Well, you don’t have to talk, I suppose. Have you tried art?” Starscream looked up from his preening incredulously.

“What,” he deadpanned. The therapist smiled encouragingly.

“Art can help you express the feelings you don’t necessarily want to voice. You could paint, draw, maybe sing-” Starscream glared at him, wings ruffling. “Alright, no singing, then. But still! Getting all your emotions out instead of bottling them up can be therapeutic. You don’t even have to keep it after you’re done with it.” Starscream glared holes into the floor and made a couple faces.

“And _what,_ exactly, am I supposed to paint?” The therapist brightened.

“Anything you want! Anything at all!” Starscream’s wings flicked thoughtfully, but his expression didn’t change. Finally, he heaved a put-upon sigh.

“Perhaps I will indulge your bizarre requests- only if I have time for it! I’m very busy, you know.” They both knew that was a lie. The therapist beamed.

“Thank you. I think you’ll find that it will help.” He ignored Starscream’s contrary muttering.


	2. Starscream Makes Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream discovers his hidden passion for the arts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!

“Oh, it _did_ help!” Starscream said a week later, presenting his painting to the therapist with a proud little smirk. “I call it ‘Slaghead.’” The therapist studied the piece apprehensively, taking in the gore and violence.

“Wow, you... Certainly pay attention to detail,” he said, eyeing the brightly colored spatters of energon, “and it’s... Very anatomically correct.” Starscream seemed briefly surprised, before summoning up his false bravado.

“Well, of course! You see, I was going about my _very_ busy schedule, and I got to thinking about everything I hate, as one does. That, naturally, brought me to Megatron, and I thought to myself, ‘I wish I could shove his stupid fat helm up his aft-port!’ Then, inspiration struck! It’s always been one of my most _favorite_ fantasies to entertain.” The therapist nodded.

“I can tell,” he said a little too cheerfully. “How did painting this make you feel?” Starscream pondered a moment.

“Amused,” he said, “avenged. It was cathartic. I made more.” He unsubspaced a stack of paintings. The therapist inspected the rather unflattering depiction of Optimus Prime covered in dirt and organic creatures on top.

“These are very good,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad we’ve found something you enjoy. May I see the rest of them?” Starscream blinked, caught off guard, then smiled arrogantly.

“But of course! How could I deny you such an experience when you asked so _nicely?_” He spread them out on the coffee table. “I made one for everyone I know. Except you.”

They were mostly insulting, depicting caricatures of team Prime and the Decepticon high command in various ridiculous or violent situations.

The nicest was Knockout’s, mostly realistic and proportional except for his oversized smirk and the obscene amounts of beauty products and porn in the background. There was a special care and detail given to his painting that was absent in all the others. The therapist presumed, privately, that he was his favorite.

He scanned the various unflattering portraits, noting that the details added underlying expressions of Starscream’s personal sentiments that were easily overlooked at a first glance. He paused when he surveyed Ratchet’s, snorting before he could stop himself.

“Why does his face look like it’s been through a trash compactor?” He blurted. Starscream shrugged.

“He’s old,” He said, and left it at that.

Soundwave’s had him peeking through a vent in a washroom, Airachnid was tangled in her own webbing, and a mass of vehicons were all tripping and stumbling over each other. The therapist hummed.

“You have a lot of talent,” he said. Starscream eyed him mistrustfully.

“You don’t find this repulsive or disturbing? At _all?_” The therapist shook his head and smiled at his new patient.

“This is a really good way to express yourself without hurting somebody or making drastic decisions that could potentially hurt you. I’ve noticed, based on your file, that you’re fairly violently impulsive when provoked. This could be a way to temper that.” Starscream seemed to think about that, which was encouraging.

“Perhaps,” he admitted. The therapist smiled.

“I’ve got an assignment for you: every time someone makes you feel angry or violent, you paint the meanest, nastiest, most horrific picture you can before you decide your next course of action. Could you do that for me?” He asked. Starscream considered it for a moment, before smiling in a way the therapist was sure that, historically, had never ended well for the recipients.

“But of course,” he purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to leave feedback! :)


	3. Starscream Gets Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream makes decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! Thanks so much for the feedback! Here’s chapter three: the actual beginning of the plot lmao

“You know that’s not at _all_ what I meant,” said the therapist the next day, staring down his bloodied patient. Starscream’s broken optic twitched, and he pouted.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He snapped, shifting as best he could with his neck-cast to face the wall. The therapist cocked his optical ridge.

“So you didn’t send your violent and insulting art to Megatron to make him angry.” Starscream sputtered.

“You said it was good!”

“Not when you show it to your... _Inspirations!_ Honestly, Starscream, I thought you knew better than to start fights.” Starscream awkwardly shifted further until his back was completely to the therapist. He flicked his wings in such a manner that one didn’t have to be a seeker to understand his meaning. The therapist didn’t budge.

“I’ll have you know that _Megatron_ started it,” Starscream finally grumbled after a tense fifteen seconds. “He called me useless and it made me mad.”

“So you wanted to hurt his feelings to get even.”

“... Maybe. I don’t understand, nothing I ever say or do impresses him! I work so hard and I get _nothing!_”

“Then why continue? If nothing you do ever makes him see you in a better light, perhaps you should move on with your life and find a better goal.” Starscream paused, looking back at his companion, and shook his helm a bit.

“I’m not a _quitter,_” he snapped, “and I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic and weak.”

“Doesn’t he already think that?” Starscream said nothing. “You know, I encountered an interesting expression on the human internet-“

“Oh, because the fleshlings are _such_ a reliable source of information-”

“-about trying to jam a circular peg into a square hole. Eventually you have to realize that the action is futile, and that your time would be better spent on something else. Now more than ever, since he’s no longer your commanding officer and you’re both in prison. Who cares what he thinks? He’s not important anymore, and he has no control over your life at this point.” Starscream was quiet for a moment, then turned his body back around to face his therapist.

“Well, I definitely understand what you’re saying, but- he actually _does_ control what happens to me. There’s a sort of pecking order here, you see- he’s at the top, naturally, and all his sycophantic little _minions_ follow him around like scraplets doing whatever he desires, and I still have to put up with his stupid scrap. I can’t just disregard him, I’ll fall out of favor! It’s like nothing has changed at all.” The therapist quirked a brow.

“He can’t actually hurt you now, you know what happens to violent prisoners.” Starscream gestured to his injured face impatiently. The therapist paused.

“Wait, do the guards know-?”

“Of course!”

“And now he’s locked in his cell for the rest of the week, isn’t he?” Starscream looked like he’d eaten a lemon.

“Fair. I knew that would happen. He’s been _such_ an aft lately, you know. I mean, even more so than usual. If anything, it was a victory for me!” The therapist wasn’t impressed.

“Victory? He put you in the medbay! It seems like you hurt yourself more than you hurt him.” Starscream tried to scowl, but it came out looking like more of a pout. The therapist sighed.

“All I’m suggesting is that you stop letting Megatron ruin your life. He’s never going to respect you. From what I’ve seen of him, he thrives on attention. He probably gets a sense of power from making you focus all your energy on him, and strings you along by giving you just enough to keep trying- to keep thinking that it’s not a complete waste of time to seek his approval. Don’t give him that anymore. I guarantee you it’ll drive him up the wall, and he won’t even be able to admit why unless he wants to sound pathetic. Just cut him out.” Starscream pondered that for a moment, looking bewildered.

“I mean... I _would_ have the resources to do that now, wouldn’t I?” He said with a chuckle. “I’m no longer dependent on him for survival. He’s so much more temperamental now that the Prime is ignoring him- now that he’s stuck in here. That would add so much insult to injury! I could just... _Stop!_” The therapist grinned.

“Yes, that’s perfect! You do that!” Starscream tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“And doesn’t that just open up a myriad of possibilities? I’m going to have so much fun with this. Oh, Doctor, you’re a _genius-_ I could kiss you!” The therapist grimaced.

“Please don’t,” he said. “And please, _please_ don’t do anything reckless or stupid.” Starscream grinned ferally.

“_Never_,” he drawled playfully.

The therapist felt as though he had indirectly put into motion an utter catastrophe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed!!! Thanks so much for reading!! :)


	4. Starscream Makes Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream takes the first step towards turning his life around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the kudos and comments, it really makes my day! :) Here’s another one!

Starscream frowned at his painting. It lacked a certain... Element he felt he should have noticed. Something about it felt dull and flat. Shallow. 

He added more shading along a section of neck, a little extra color to the optics, maybe some depth to the background-

“Starscream.” 

_Splat_.

Starscream smiled stiffly and turned to face his visitor.

“Megatron!” He greeted with false enthusiasm. “It seems they’ve allowed you out of your cell! To what. Do I owe. The  pleasure.” Megatron ignored him, looking over his shoulder.

“Is that a  _self-portrait?_” He asked, sounding about as impressed as an art professor presented with a macaroni creation. Starscream’s optic twitched, assessing the massive red streak that now obscured half his painted visage.

“It  _ used to be_,” he ground out, smiling in a way that could be held as proof that Cybertronians experienced constipation. Megatron rolled his optics. 

“Cease your dallying. You’re  late  for the meeting with the rest of high command.” 

_ Ah, yes,  _ Starscream thought,  _ it would certainly be irresponsible of me to choose not to attend our daily common-room gossip chats. _

He sighed, preparing himself for more ridiculous drudgery, before remembering his chat with his therapist.

_ Just cut him out. _

“A-Actually,” He stammered, “I’m... Busy.”  Megatron shot him a pointed look. Starscream straightened under the scrutiny, looking him in the eye.

“_Busy_,” spat the former warlord, unconvinced. “With  _what?_” Starscream gestured impatiently to the haphazard studio he’d made of his cell.

“I’m  _painting!_” He said pointedly. “And you  _interrupted me!_ Quite rudely, might I add!” 

Megatron stared at him a long moment, expression inscrutable. Finally, he pushed Starscream aside and cleared all his paintings off one of the walls with a broad sweep of his arm. The seeker's optics widened, and he stepped in front of his intruder when he advanced to the art supplies resting on the berthside table.

“No, no- wait! What are you  _doing?!_” Megatron didn’t even pause, reaching past him to dump the materials onto the floor. A can of paint hit Starscream’s legs and splattered red all down his shins.

“Clearing your schedule,” Megatron growled. 

He shoved the seeker violently into the wall and continued on his path of destruction across the cell, upending the berth and crushing Starscream’s paintbrushes under his heel. When he ran out of art supplies, Megatron went for the rest of Starscream’s personal belongings.

Starscream, unable to stop him, just watched in horror.

Megatron finished grinding the last of Starscream’s belongings into the ground with his pedes and looked at him expectantly.

“You are no longer busy. You’re coming to the meeting.” Starscream’s face twisted into an ugly snarl.

“What in the pit was _that?!_” Megatron’s expression darkened, but he remained silent. “Did you think your little tantrum was at all impressive? Get out of my cell! Primus, I’m so  _tired _ of you!”Megatron didn’t budge, glaring at his former SIC with an uncomfortable intensity. Starscream stomped out into the hall.

“Guards!” He hollered, attracting the attention of everyone in the general vicinity. “Guards, I’m being _harassed!_ Come remove this intruder from my cell at once!”

“Pathetic,” Megatron called after him, “you can’t even solve your own problems!” Some of the spectators laughed at that. A squad of guards appeared from around a corner.

“What’s going on?” Demanded the one in the front. Starscream pointed accusingly at Megatron, who was looking at him like he was going to rip off his wings. Starscream shivered.

“He scrapped my cell!” He announced shrilly, making what he thought was the most sympathy-inducing face he could make. It was really more of a pout. “I was just minding my own business and he started harassing me! He _destroyed_ all my things!” One of the guards at the back of the squad groaned.

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to make us file  _another _ incident report?” There was a muffled  _clang_ as someone kicked him. Starscream pouted harder. Megatron cracked the berth in half over his knee.

“I haven’t harmed anyone,” he growled, “move along.” 

“Yeah,” jeered someone in a different cell, “I wanna watch him make ‘Screamer cry!” Starscream directed a poisonous look at them and turned back to the guards.

“I just wanted to paint,” Starscream whined. “I was _behaving myself,_ and _he_ started a conflict!” The one at the front sighed resignedly, activating Megatron’s stasis generators with a handheld remote that read ‘Bad Boy Night-Night’ on the side.

“Someone call the Megatron Handling Squad and get him in his cell,” he said into his comm, pinching the space between his optics. “Honestly. It’s been a  _cycle _ since you were let out, get a handle on yourself!” 

Megatron, unable to speak in his subdued state, looked at the guard like he was memorizing his face for the day he planned to scrape it off his helm and wear it on a belt. The guard shivered.

“Seriously, hurry up!” He barked. Not a few seconds later, a troop of massive, burly mechs jogged into to the cell and dragged Megatron’s unresponsive frame away. Starscream sighed dramatically.

“Oh, thank you  so  much! It’s so  hard  to try to improve oneself with all these... These violent _brutes_ pushing everyone around!” The guard raised an optical ridge.

“Pardon?” He deadpanned. Starscream tried very hard to look forlorn. 

“I see now that my choices have... Led me down a destructive path of negativity and... _Badness._ I have decided that I’m going to try to be a better... Healthier? Person? Yes, a _better, healthier person._” The guard didn’t seem convinced.

“Your body count is in the hundred-thousands,” he said flatly. Starscream nodded solemnly.

“And I’m  _ very  _ sorry about that,” he said. The guard sighed.

“Whatever. Come with me, we have to file  another  incident report.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to leave feedback! Thanks for reading! :)


	5. The Founding of the Hippie Cult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So begins the fiasco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your feedback and wonderful comments! I’m actually putting the plot into motion now.

Starscream shoved his way through yet  _another _ shoulder check, smacking the offending mech in the face with one of his wings. He tried not to wince- they really weren’t designed for that, and he felt it.

He was beginning to rethink his whole ‘distancing himself fromMegatron but in the most  infuriating  way he could possibly manage’ plan. It seemed his fellow prisoners weren’t too keen on the idea of him ratting their precious despot out to the guards.  _Ugh_, their slavish devotion was _sickening_.

He stomped his way into the common room- deliberately ignoring everyone in it- and flopped as aggressively as he could into a seat at a table in the corner, glaring at anyone who got too close. 

Starscream was preoccupied with staring a particularly angry-looking mech in the optics and clawing long, thin lines into the metal of the table when someone with a  _ very  _ friendly EM field dropped into the seat next to him  _ way  _ too suddenly.

Starscream’s claws sank into the table and he aimed his nonexistent missiles at the intruder on instinct. He wound up smacking the mech in the face with his servo, panic doing little for his sense of spatial awareness.

“Ow!” The mystery mech whined. Starscream finally got a good look at him and relaxed.

“Oh, a _drone_. What do you want?” He snapped. The vehicon cowered.

“I- um- I’m- I’m sorry for scaring you,” He stammered meekly. Starscream scowled at him.

“I wasn’t  _ scared_, I was  _ being vigilant_.  _ What  do you  want_.” The vehicon trembled.

“I- I just wanted to say that I think it was really brave, what you did with Megatron.” Starscream looked at him like he’d grown organic flora out his audials. The angry mech, who Starscream had almost forgotten about, snorted.

“Traitor,” he sneered. Starscream rose, wrenching his digits out of the table and flexing them. His wings flared aggressively.

“I will  _ gut you_,” he snarled. The angry mech glowered, but stomped off. Starscream sank gracefully back into the seat and rested his chin in one servo. “Continue,” he purred to the vehicon, tracing circles on the surface of the table. 

“I- I mean, I just think it’s so mature and amazing that you’ve decided to move on from the war,” the vehicon gushed. Starscream’s processor stalled. His claw a pressed deeper into the circles he was making.

“Oh? _Do_ elaborate,” he said, smile still in place. His companion nodded fervently, unaware of Starscream’s inner turmoil.

“Yes! I never even knew it was possible, I was  _made _ for war- and then you shut Megatron down instead of participating in his violent ideology!” Starscream nodded in a manner he hoped seemed sagely.

“Oh, yes, that was _definitely_ my intention,” he lied.

“Wow! You’ve always been my favorite officer. All the other soldiers thought I was weird, but I  _ knew  _ there was something special about you! This proves it! You’re _so amazing!_” 

Well, then. That was doing all  _kinds _ of wonderful things for Starscream’s self-esteem.

“Random vehicon-” Starscream began, gently taking his faceplate into his servos.

“Steve,” the vehicon supplied.

“-Steve,” Starscream said, looking him right in the visor with a frightening intensity, “you are now my  _ favorite vehicon in the entire universe_.” Steve’s field was elated. 

“This is the best day of my life,” he whispered in awe. “Can I join you on your amazing quest for peace and enlightenment?” 

_ What?  _

“Sure,” Starscream muttered, looking away and waving a servo dismissively-

_ Wait. _

Smirking, he turned back to his new minion.

“Steve,” he said, placing his servos on the vehicon’s shoulders, “I have a _very_ important task I need you to assist me with.” 

_“Anything,"_ Steve breathed.

“I need you to help me tidy up my cell. It represents... Healing. From conflict. Or something.” Steve looked at him like he was a god.

“That is the most profound thing I’ve ever heard,” he gushed. Starscream nodded.

“Come along, then,” he said, beckoning his new follower, “we have much to accomplish.”

There was no way this could  _ possibly  _ go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	6. Starscream is Honest About His Dishonesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to therapy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long, thank you guys so much for the feedback!!! :)

“... Wow,” said the therapist, eyeing the twin stacks of paintings that had appeared on the coffee table, “you’ve really taken to this ‘art’ thing.” Starscream started spreading them out a bit.

“Actually, half of them are Steve’s,” he corrected. The therapist nodded, noticing a crude depiction of Starscream and a Vehicon holding hands in a field of organic vegetation.

“Huh,” said the therapist, “I thought the drones all were emancipated.” Starscream continued organizing the paintings into neat rows.

“Yes, I think he committed a crime. Well, then. What do you think of  _ mine?_” He asked, gesturing proudly to his work. The therapist made a noise of approval, looking over the paintings of Starscream in various flattering positions of glory and splendor.

“They’re very good. There are a lot of self-portraits this time around,” he said. Starscream paused.

“Yes, well. I don’t think I like those very much, actually,” he confessed. The therapist’s optical ridges furrowed.

“Oh?” Starscream fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Something about them doesn’t... _Feel_ right. They lack something, some sort of depth.” The therapist nodded. 

“That’s okay,” he said. “Tell me more about this  Steve  person. What even  _ is  _ a ‘Steve?’ Why is that his name?” Starscream grimaced.

“Apparently, he named himself after an organic title\- Primus knows  _why_- and he’s my new minion. I’ve decided he’s my favorite, he  _adores_ me- as he slagging well  _ should_, mind you! He seems to be under the impression that I’m ‘turning over a new leaf’ or something, so we spend most of our time ‘painting away the negativity,’ or whatever. He literally does anything I tell him to, it’s great!” The therapist looked at him flatly.

“So, you’re lying to him,” he deadpanned. Starscream squirmed under the judgmental stare.

“_Well_,” he said, looking away, “I mean, not  _ really_.” The therapist’s expression didn’t change. “Okay, I’m not exactly being _completely_ honest about  why  I’m doing what I’m doing, and he seems pretty happy, so...” 

There was a long beat of silence as the therapist stared him down.

“Okay, so I’m lying!” Starscream blurted, looking away and pouting. “Can you really blame me, though?”

“Yes.”

“Hey!” Starscream pulled his knees into a fetal position, still avoiding the therapist’s gaze. “This is the first time somebody hasn’t hated me in  _ vorns!  _ Even if it’s because he thinks I’m some sort of- of-  _ Autobot wannabe_, I’ll play the part and take what I can get.” The therapist sighed wearily.

“You won’t know if he actually dislikes you until you’re honest with him about who you really are,” he said. “Maybe he’ll even admire you for being brave enough to be open with him.” Starscream groaned and scrubbed his face-plates.

“But that’s not a thing that  happens!  Nobody has ever  _ liked  _ me!” He said, gripping his upper arms a little more tightly than was strictly necessary. “I don’t- I’m not... Enough. It’s better to give people what they want so they don’t throw you away, whether or not it’s actually enjoyable. That’s just life.” 

There was a heavy pause.

“Well, that’s a load of slag,” said the therapist. Starscream looked offended, holding his wings at a high angle. “-I mean, it’s a load of slag that you aren’t enough, or that you have to make do,” he amended hastily. Starscream didn’t relax.

“You’re just saying that because you have to,” he groused. The therapist sighed, pinching the space between his optics. 

“Look, Starscream,” He said tiredly, “if someone doesn’t like you, nothing you do ever going to be enough. Sometimes, you have to cut your losses and move on. This...  _ Stove  _ character-”

_ “ _ _ Steve." _

“Right, sorry- this _Steve_ character seems like a nice person. I think you could build a really healthy friendship with him if you were honest.” Starscream grimaced.

“Ew, you sound like an  _ Autobot_,” he complained. “Anyway, what if he doesn’t like my actual personality? What if he becomes  _disillusioned_ and renounces me? What then?” The therapist looked him in the optics.

“Then you dodged a bullet,” he said grimly. “Then it would have been extremely unhealthy and miserable for you.” Starscream regarded him thoughtfully.

“Perhaps it’s smarter not to take the risk,” he said. The therapist sighed tiredly.

“I can’t make you do anything, but I very _strongly_ suggest you stop lying to your  _only friend,"_ he said. Starscream considered that for a moment.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve never made anything easier for anyone, ever, and I don’t intend to start now.”

The therapist, somehow knowing that that would be his answer, buried his face in his servos and groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to comment and leave kudos, thanks for reading! :)


	7. Steve Un-Fucks His Fuck-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream makes some new friends!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update, I got a nasty case of writer’s block! This chapter is super long, though, so I suppose I’m making up for it. Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you liked it!!!

Steve watched fondly as Starscream painted a new testament to his ego in his cell, muttering to himself and scowling at any occasional passing inmates. He looked for all the world like a deranged metal harpy.

Steve wanted to be  _just like_ him. 

Ever since he’d first witnessed Starscream persevere through one of Megatron’s more brutal beatings, he’d held the mech up on a pedestal.

Starscream  _ got  _ _it_\- he  understood  what it was like to have all the odds against him at all times. He never received any help from anyone, he got his aft kicked  _all the time__,_ and nobody wanted anything to do with him- _just like Steve!_ Just like every other vehicon, really, but Steve was the only one who could  _see_ it. 

He’d always striven to follow Starscream’s example, especially in times of mortal peril or crisis. It had gotten him out of a great many scrapes- like the time he’d been caught in a cave-in!

‘It was really hard to drag my half-dead bleeding frame out of that cave, but I did it for Starscream,’ Steve had declared wistfully, once his legs were reattached and he had enough energon in his systems to be coherent again. Knockout had sneered, unamused by the mess Steve had caused in his med-bay.

‘If Starscream were on fire, I’d roast marshmallows,’ he had replied. Steve had decided not to continue the conversation, not knowing what marshmallows were but regardless understanding the point.

The fact that he was the only person in the world who seemed to like Starscream  _ was  _ admittedly rather frustrating, but he knew that one day everyone would see what he was talking about!

“Minion,” Starscream called, snapping his digits and interrupting Steve’s reverie, “I require more red paint. Fetch it for me.” 

Steve rummaged through the gigantic container of paints that the guards had provided for Starscream after his haphazard stack of tubes and buckets had fallen and made him a brightly-colored pillar of fury, pulling out two tubes.

“Do you want the one with an orange hue, or the one that looks like squished squishy?” He asked. Starscream recoiled.

“_Ew_, don’t ruin the entire color for me! Just give them both here, you buffoon!” Steve did so, sighing dreamily again.

Oh yes, it was only a matter of time before the world realized how amazing Starscream was. After all, he was the smartest, most talented, most  _ wonderful- _

“_Psst!_” Steve startled, noticing another vehicon crouched outside theentrance to the cell. “Hey! You! C’mere!” She whispered. Steve glanced around, pointing to himself uncertainly. “_Yes_,  you!  C’mon!” 

Steve glanced at Starscream, then raised his digit at her.

“Hey, um, Starscream? I’ve gotta... Go wash. Like, right now.” Starscream pulled away from his painting, covered in streaks of red. He gave Steve’s frame a critical once-over.

“Hm. While you’re out, I recommend trying to polish up a bit, too,” he said, turning back to his work. His wings dipped a bit, but he seemed otherwise unperturbed. Steve slipped out as quickly as he could. The vehicon gestured for him to follow, and led him to the common room and into a small group of fellow drones.

“What is it?” He asked once they had stopped, glancing back down the hall nervously. “We need to make this quick- what if Starscream has to walk _all the way across his cell_ for some new paint?” The vehicon who had led him there looked at him strangely.

“Dude, are you okay?” She asked, examining his helm for injuries. “Is he _threatening_ you?” Steve pulled away from her grasp.

“Who, Starscream?” He asked incredulously. 

The other vehicons gave him a look that, even with their visors, was very obviously flat. Steve recoiled.

“Wait, seriously? No!” He exclaimed, waving his arms in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture. The others didn’t seem convinced.

“You follow him everywhere, you paint stupid pictures with him, and I think you two were going _catatonic_ in here yesterday. There’s no  way  he’s not blackmailing you or something,” said another vehicon. Steve rubbed a servo over his visor, groaning.

“Okay,  first, it’s called  _ meditating, sweetie__-_ look it up! And second, is it so hard to believe that I just... Like him?” 

“Yes,” said somebody towards the edge of the small congregation. Steve huffed agitatedly.

“I’ll have you know that he’s a lot nicer now! He doesn’t physically injure me at all, and one time he even said ‘sorry’ when he accidentally squirted paint all over my chassis! I’m having a great time!” The gaggle of vehicons whispered hopefully amongst themselves.

“Nuh-uh!” Said some guy in the middle. “Remember when he kicked Janet right in the panels? And then later that day, remember how he used the energon harvester on him? I don’t buy it!” There were a couple murmurs of agreement. 

“One time, I had a bad flux about Starscream sneaking into my berth and whispering in my ear!” Interjected another. “It was super creepy, and I blame him!” Someone patted them on the shoulder, flashing their visor at Steve angrily.

“_Yeah_, what about Gerald’s bad flux?” They demanded.

“Everybody knows Gerald likes to put weird things in his intake,” said the vehicon that had led Steve there in the first place. “Besides, based on what I’ve observed, I think this guy might be telling the truth! It’s not like we’ve seen Starscream doing anything bad to him!” 

That set them off. What had been restricted to a dull murmur became a very noisy argument.

“-Well, he  does  have a point! Maybe now that we’re not at war he doesn’t need to do posturing anymore!”

“Can it, _Brenda_, you dirty organic-fragger!”

“Okay, that was  _ one time__-”_

“-I’m just saying, officers are all scrapheaps except for Breakdown-”

“-I think Starscream looks kind of creepy with those weird servos! Why does he need so many  _ joints__-_”

“Hey, guys?” Steve asked. His voice was lost in the cacophony.

“-and fliers are  _so _ stuck up-”

“_Shuddit!_ Some of us are tryin’ to watch the news!” Somebody barked from across the room. The vehicons all quieted instinctively. Steve reset his vocalizer.

“Why don’t you all just come with me? I can show you all that he’s changed!” The vehicons muttered suspiciously. Finally, they seemed to relent.

“It’s not like we have anything better to do,” said Brenda. A murmur of assent swept through the group, and they all stared at Steve expectantly. 

Steve fidgeted, unused to so much attention.

“Um. This way?” He gestured down the hall, marching awkwardly as he was trailed by at least thirty near completely identical vehicons in single file.

...

Starscream frowned, noticing a crescendoing  _clang, clang, clang_ echoing down the corridors. He crept to the entrance to his cell, peeking out. 

“Hi!” Called Steve, as he led a parade of his brethren directly. Into. Starscream’s cell.

They just kept coming. It was like a clown car. Finally, when they had all settled (and subsequently pushed Starscream into sitting on his berth), one decided to speak up.

“Hey, this place is pretty neat!” 

They proceeded to ransack the place. 

“Wow,” said one, tracing their visor with a dry paintbrush, “this feels nice!”

“Hey guys, I found the paint!” Another squealed, and suddenly the contents of the paint bin were emptied into the small crowd and passed around to admire. 

“I like this!” 

“This is my favorite shade of green!”

“This kind of looks like squishy roadkill!”

Starscream was dumbfounded for a moment, and then he glared at Steve, who was sitting next to him.

“What. The _frag_, Steve?” he hissed icily, staring him down. “What did you do.” It wasn’t a question. Steve’s visor brightened nervously.

“I didn’t think they’d do this?” He tried. He proceeded to take a dollop of pink paint to the face, courtesy of Gerald. Starscream set his jaw and growled.

“Alright, you nincompoops!” He barked, standing unsteadily on his lumpy berth, “I’m giving you five kliks to get out of my cell before I feed you your own fuel pumps!” The vehicons paused, staring at him.

“Y’know, Steve, I don’t think he seems very nice,” said one, putting their sticky green servos on their hips. Starscream spluttered.

“What? No. This,” he gestured to his cell, “is  _ mine_, and you’re making a _mess_, and it is  _ extremely  _ unappreciated, so I get to be  _ rude_, thank you- What?!” The vehicons were clucking and shaking their heads.

“Really, Steve,” said the one with sticky servos, “I thought you knew better.” Starscream took a long invent and laced his digits together. He turned back to Steve.

“Stevelyn of the fiftieth batch of Shockwave’s clone experiment from his secret lab under the  _ fragging  _ Sea of Rust,” he began, speaking voice crescendoing into a staticky shout, “would. You.  _ Please_, for the love of everything Primus made holy on this rusting heap of slag we live on. Put. Them.  _ Back_.” 

There was absolute silence. Starscream fidgeted.

“What,” He snapped, “was it the blasphemy? There’s more where that came from!” The vehicons just stared, awed.

“You... You said  please,” one said quietly. “Nobody _ever_ says ‘please’ to us.” Starscream blinked.

“Yes, well-”

“And you know his entire designation!” Someone else shouted.

“Steve, you were right!” Another squealed. “He really _is_ good now!” Starscream’s wings flattened a bit.

“Now, lets not throw around accusations, here-” He sputtered.

“I can’t believe we’ve finally found someone who can treat us right!” Exclaimed someone else. The vehicons all began warbling amongst each other excitedly, staring at Starscream as if he were the newest Prime. Steve’s visor brightened enthusiastically, and he stood up beside Starscream and clapped his servos to get their attention.

“Hey, hey- cool it, people! You all know what this means, right?” The vehicons all quieted, and solemnly began to kneel one by one. Steve reset his vocalizer. Starscream felt like he was dreaming.

“Okay,” Steve began, “repeat after me: We, the Vehicons of the New Iacon Detention Center-” Starscream’s intake fell open as he watched the proceedings. “Do hereby pledge our loyalty and service to Lord Starscream of Vos-” After all this time, in a fragging  _ prison_, of all places- “Until the last beating pulse of our sparks, so take us, the Unmaker himself!” -he had finally done it! Steve paused, letting the words hang in the air. 

“You may rise,” he said, lifting his arms dramatically. The vehicons followed suit. “All! Hail! Starscream!” 

_“All hail Starscream! All hail Starscream!”_ The vehicons chanted. Starscream was grinning so hard he thought his faceplates would bend out of shape.

“Again!” He commanded, punctuating it with an punch to the air. 

_ “All hail Starscream!”  _

“Keep it coming!” He reveled in the chants, letting his victory wash over him in a rush. “Yes,  _ yes!  _ I deserve this!” He shouted to the ceiling. 

This was it! This was  his moment \- and  _ nothing  _ anyone did could  _ possibly  _ ruin-

_ Bang! Bang! Bang! _

“Hey!”

The occupants of the cell fell silent and looked to the small troop of unamused prison guards that had gathered at the entrance. 

“What’s going on in here?!” The leader demanded, taking his fist off the wall.

All the vehicons looked to Starscream. Still riding the high of attaining leadership, the seeker made a parting motion to his crowd of followers. They shuffled out of the way, creating a small path. He stepped daintily off the berth and onto the floor, strutting towards the guards like a peacock. He stopped just in front of the one who had spoken, put his servos on his hips, and loudly cleared his vocalizer.

“Sorry about that,” he said calmly, “just a club meeting.” The guard was not convinced.

“Oh, yeah? What club, _hippies anonymous?_” He drawled, cocking an optical ridge at all the paint-slathered mechs. 

“Yes, actually,” he blurted, “this is the ‘Hippies Club,’ and we believe in... Peace. And love? And, um...” He searched his mind desperately for another Autobot-approved activity. He didn’t even know what a hippie _was_.

“_Fragging!_” Called Brenda, fist-pumping the air. The vehicons cheered. Starscream shrugged.

“Sure, why not. Fragging.” The guards each made faces that expressed the same sentiment of discomfort and confusion in a variety of different ways. 

“... Fine,” relented the guard who had spoken. “But! The first sign of any trouble from you weirdos, you’re all getting separated!” Starscream smiled in a manner he hoped seemed angelic. He missed the mark by a good mile.

“Oh, come now!” He purred, waving dismissively. “Would _I_ cause problems on purpose?” 

The leader of the troop heaved a  very  weary sigh and beckoned the rest of the guards away. Starscream smirked, waited until they were out of earshot, and turned back to his new followers. They stared at him expectantly.

“Well, I can’t tell any of you apart,” he announced, clasping his servos together. “First order of business: marks of identification! Everybody get in line, you’re all getting name tags.” He paused. “Erm.  _ Please_.” The vehicons hurried to follow his instructions.

Oh, this was going to be  _ easy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and thanks to those of you who leave feedback! Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you liked it! :)


	8. Megatron is a Jackass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream’s good mood is ruined. 
> 
> (TW for verbal and physical abuse, begins at the wash-rack scene.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank so much for the comments, guys! You’re all awesome :)

Starscream grabbed a paintbrush andpointed to the first in line.

“Designation,” he demanded. The vehicon’s visor brightened in surprise.

“Me?” Starscream rolled his optics.

_“No,_ the wandering spark just behind your shoulder. Hurry it up, we’ve got a long line!” He snapped. The vehicon looked like he was going to start vibrating out of pure joy.

“I’m Arthur!” He chirped. Starscream frowned.

“I don’t think we have a glyph for that. What’s your favorite shape?” Arthur thought a moment.

“I like skinny isosceles triangles,” he said. Starscream gestured to the tube of paint in his servo.

“Give it,” He ordered. Arthur complied. Starscream squirted some yellow paint onto his brush and made a neat little triangle over Arthur’s Decepticon insignia in the middle of his chassis. “Turn around,” He said, and then repeated the action on the small of Arthur’s back. Arthur’s vents were stalling.

“Wow,” he breathed, “I’m _special_ now!” Starscream capped the paint and put it back in its proper container.

“Splendid,” he said disinterestedly, _“__next!" _ Arthur scooted off to the side, looking like he was on cloud nine. The next vehicon stepped up and fidgeted nervously. Starscream raised an optical ridge.

_“__Designation,” _ he said pointedly, motioning at them with his paintbrush.

“Um... Brenda,” they supplied quietly, looking at their pedes. Starscream made a noise of frustration. Another human name.

“Ugh,” he said, “favorite shape?” 

“I like circles,” Brenda mumbled, handing him a tube of blue paint. Starscream marked them accordingly.

“Next,” he called, pushing a near shell-shocked Brenda to the side with Arthur. The next vehicon stepped forward proudly.

“Brenda!” She proudly announced. Starscream looked between her and the other Brenda confusedly.

“There are two of you?” He sputtered. The second Brenda nodded.

“Yeah! That’s Shy Brenda,” she said, gesturing to her counterpart, “and I’m Weird Brenda.” She gestured to herself with a digit. Starscream furrowed his optical ridges.

“What makes you so weird?” He asked hesitantly, as if afraid of the answer. Weird Brenda looked sheepish.

“I, uh. I interfaced with a mechanic-squishy,” she muttered. Starscream felt five million years leave his lifespan.

“I wish I never asked,” he said, and painted the glyph for ‘sexual deviant’ right in the middle of Weird Brenda’s chassis and then the small of her back. “Next!” 

This continued for about fifteen minutes, and Starscream had to start coming up with some extremely inventive shapes. For instance, he ended up giving Gerald an asymmetrical blob shape when he said ‘surprise me.’ He just gave Steve a glyph that said ‘best one.’ 

Finally, he reached the end of the line.

“Designation,” he drawled tiredly. The vehicon fidgeted uncomfortably. Starscream sighed. “What?”

“I never got one,” the vehicon said sadly. Another, named Daniel (with a green trapezoid), perked up. 

“Hey, maybe  _you_ can name him!” He suggested proudly. Starscream in-vented slowly and counted to ten. 

He didn’t know how to name grounders, he didn’t even know what they liked! Gravity? _Rocks?_ Ugh.

“Um. Ground... Boy?” He tried. The newly-christened GroundBoy gasped.

“I love it! Thank you so much!” He squealed.

_ At least I can paint this in glyphs, _ Starscream thought exasperatedly, taking the tube of brown paint and labeling his last minion. It was kind of messy looking, given that Starscream’s brush had been through just about every other color he had beforehand. 

GroundBoy, like his comrades, was elated. Starscream put the last tube back in the container.

“I’m going to the wash racks, and you lot are going to clean my cell.  _ Please.”_ The word still felt heavy on his glossa, but it was worth it when the vehicons scrambled to obey. “And, uh-  _ thank ...  you...?" _They all but swooned. 

“I would _die_ for you!” Gerald called after him.

“Good!” Starscream nodded once and, with that, set off to scrub the streaks of paint off his chassis.

...

Starscream’s haze of self-satisfied victory was broken when he realized that he was now completely alone in a prison full of hostile Decepticons who were still angry about the fact that he’d humiliated their leader. 

Hostile,  _ big  _ Decepticons. 

Starscream shook off his unease and channeled all his fear into a familiar, nasty scowl as he continued his way to the wash-racks. They couldn’t hurt him.

He found that the wash-racks were blocked by a large, bulky grounder with a face covered in ugly scars. Starscream froze, his fear-turned anger boiling into a frustrated rage. 

He was  _ tired,_ his cell had been  _ trashed,_ and _this_ buffoon was going to block his way to the washracks during the only time of day it had warm solvent? Oh, _Pit no._ He stomped up to the mech and got in his face.

_ “ _ _ Move,” _ he spat, jabbing a digit at his chassis. The grounder wasn’t impressed.

“No. Nobody’s allowed in there right now-” Starscream cut him off by grabbing his face and digging the needle-points of his claws into the sides of helm.

“You listen here and you listen  _ well,”_ he hissed, “have you any idea how many mechs just like _you  _ I’ve clawed through in my life? It’s been a long damn war, and I’m angry and tired enough to attempt to _skewer_ you out your intake through your  _ aft. _Get. Out. Of. My.  _ Way.”_

He released his hold. The grounder stared at him for a long moment before stepping away from the door.

“Your funeral,” he muttered resentfully. Starscream flicked his wings disdainfully at him, pushing through the door and into the warm, steamy washracks-

... Which were currently occupied by Megatron, whose back was turned to him. 

Starscream briefly entertained the idea of leaving, but then realized that he’d have to face that stupid, smug grounder outside. He took a long invent, standing his ground as Megatron turned to face him.

What was one more trouncing, anyway? 

“Starscream,” Megatron sneered. Starscream had to clamp down on the age-old instinct to start begging for his life, and he could feel his plating rattle from the effort it took not to run. “Are you aware that you are  _interrupting_ my wash-rack time?” 

“It’s- it’s a  _ public  _ wash-rack,” Starscream stammered, vocalizer thick with static. Megatron did something that scared Starscream far more than his anger ever could: he smirked. 

“And yet, there are no guards here to save you now,” he said, stepping into Starscream’s personal space. It was getting hard to vent. He gently lifted Starscream’s forearm and held it in front of his face, inspecting it. 

“Your decision to keep such _delicate_ plating has always intrigued me.” 

“It- it allows me to fly faster,” Starscream stuttered weakly, still trying to play defiant. Megatron made a thoughtful rumbling noise deep in his chassis. 

Then, without warning, he clenched his fist and crushed Starscream’s arm struts. It took all his willpower not to wail, and his legs wobbled.

“Of course,” Megatron continued smoothly, as if nothing had happened. “So that you can more easily flee your own mistakes. Always such a  _ coward.”_

He dropped the damaged arm and stepped away. Starscream clutched it close to his chassis, feeling light-headed. His vents hitched. 

Megatron regarded him for a moment longer before returning to his shower. Starscream took the solvent nozzle furthest from him and scrubbed weakly at red streaks on his chassis with trembling hands.

“I actually find myself rather amused by your little  temper tantrum,” Megatron said conversationally, running the solvent over his shoulder. Starscream froze again. “Scurrying around with your pet _drone- _how charming. How  _ humiliating.”_

Starscream’s jaw clenched angrily, and he scrubbed harder. Megatron turned his optics to his former Second. 

“You’ve always been prone to your pathetic fits, but this is a new low,” he purred, following Starscream’s every move. “I eagerly anticipate watching it all fall apart on you- just like all your little schemes have in the past.” He turned off the solvent, shaking the last drops off of his plating. His optics met Starscream’s and steadily held his gaze.

“I’m going to enjoy crushing you beneath my heel when you inevitably come crawling back to me in disgrace, just like always.” He stalked to the exit, casting the seeker one last predatory look. “You really never  _ learn, _Starscream,” he said, smirking to show off his pointed teeth. 

And then, he was gone. Starscream finished scrubbing in fuming silence.

The fragger had used up all the warm solvent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m awful, I know.
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, don’t forget to comment or leave kudos!


	9. Starscream Visits the Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream visits the doctor! It’s a damn good thing cybertronian biology is so dubious in canon because I pulled like 75% of this out of my ass. I’m doing my best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Thanks so much to those of you who left comments or kudos, it really makes my day! :)

When Starscream arrived back at his cell, trembling and leaking slightly from his crushed arm, he was in a very bad mood. 

Seeing his possessions neatly organized by the chattering vehicons helped, but his anger and humiliation were only slightly waylaid. 

“Somebody fetch me my painting supplies,” he barked, “particularly  _ energon blue__._” The vehicons fell silent, staring at him. His wings twitched irritably. “Well?!”

“What happened to your arm?” Steve asked hesitantly, reaching out with one servo. Starscream growled and tucked said arm closer to his chassis. 

“_Nothing__._ I’m  fine.” Gerald perked over Steve’s shoulder, pulling a paintbrush out of his intake.

“Something bad happened to Starscream?” He asked loudly. Starscream’s wings stiffened testily, and he peeked outside to make certain nobody had heard.

“Speak a little louder, I don’t think they heard you in  _ Praxus__,_” he spat. Gerald flinched. It didn’t feel as good as Starscream thought it would.

“Those dents are shaped like digits,” Steve observed, visor flashing. “Somebody _hurt_ you.” 

The mood of the room abruptly changed, and the air was charged with angry, buzzing fields. The vehicons began murmuring amongst themselves. Starscream snarled at them, covering the damage with his good arm. 

“_Shut _ _ up__,_” he snapped, “It’s  _ fine__._” 

“Are you sure? It’s leaking,” said Gerald uncertainly. “It kind of looks like you should go to the med-bay.” Starscream looked away, scowling. His wings fluttered indignantly. 

“It’s not that bad. I’ll walk it off,” he muttered defensively. The vehicons seemed doubtful.

“Can you even flex your servo?” Daniel asked. “If you can do that, I think we’ll be less concerned.” 

“I don’t  _ need  _ your concern,” insisted Starscream, “but if it will get you all to cease this... Asinine  _ fretting__,_ I’ll show you that I’m perfectly capable of moving my servo.”

He was not, in fact, capable of moving his servo. In fact, trying to do so only exacerbated the leaking. 

Millions of years of this nonsense, and it still hurt like the _pit._

“Okay,” said Steve, watching him curse and struggle to staunch the flow of energon, “I’m taking you to the med-bay.”

“_I __can take care of myself!” _ Starscream griped, backing away from him. Steve wasn’t impressed.

“This is non-negotiable,” he replied flatly, servos on his hips. Starscream glared atlike a cornered animal. 

“_I  _ am in charge, here, and _I’m_ not budging!” He declared. 

“Whatever you say,” said Steve, beckoning to his comrades.

...

“I’ll have you know that this is  _ insubordination_,” Starscream squawked as he was carried horizontally down the hall by a swarm of protective vehicons. “_Betrayal!_” He struggled weakly.

He could hear giggling from various bystanders.  _ Ugh. _

“Mhm,” said Steve, adjusting his grip around Starscream’s legs to avoid being kicked. Again. 

“Ow, hey- watch the  _ wings!” _The seeker snapped, scowling over his shoulder. GroundBoy cringed from his position at Starscream’s back.

“Sorry,” he squeaked. Starscream raised an optical ridge.

“No, you’re  _not!_ I’ve been abducted!” Steve’s visor flashed and his field felt exasperated. 

“I know, right? How inconsiderate of us to  _ take care of you while you’re injured!_” He snapped. Starscream ignored him, getting an idea. 

“_GroundBoy,_” he purred, trying to sound helpless and distraught, “could you  _ please  _ put me down, now?” GroundBoy hesitated, unsure how to approach the situation. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve said, “he’s clearly delirious. He’ll thank you later.” GroundBoy didn’t seem so sure.

“But... He said  _ please__,_” he protested. Steve shrugged.

“Oh, well. It’s too late, anyway. We’re here,” he said, working with the other vehicons to carefully maneuver Starscream onto a waiting room bench. 

He ended up sideways, but he didn’t bother to correct it. His followers arranged themselves around him like angry monoliths, staring unnervingly at anyone who got within a five-meter radius. 

“What’s going on?” Asked a very _familiar_ voice. The vehicons parted to reveal one of the  _ last  _ people Starscream wanted to see. Visiting Knockout after a beating was like getting run over by a cleaning drone after being tossed in the garbage.

“Why  _ me__,_” he muttered. Knockout gave him an easy smile.

“Good afternoon, _Herr Kommandant,_” he drawled, giving a little wave. Starscream glared at him. “Megatron again, huh?” Starscream glared harder.

“What makes you think that?” Asked Steve, his tone a touch too mild. “He’s pissed off a _lot_ of mechs lately.” Knockout gestured to the servo-shaped dents in Starscream’s forearm.

“That’s about Megatron-sized,” he said simply. Starscream was glaring so hard that his face was starting to look like a rotten pumpkin. Steve nodded. 

“Interesting,” he said, then turned to the rest of the vehicons. “You can all head back. I’ll stay here to make sure he doesn’t _escape._” Knockout snickered, beckoning the two of them to a private room. 

“So you’ve got a clique, now, hm?” His tone was lighthearted, but his optics trailed the departing group enviously. 

“Minions,” Starscream corrected haughtily. Knockout raised an optical ridge.

Steve attempted to help Starscream sit, but he shrugged him off and stomped to the berth himself and plopped down as forcefully as he could. He felt a brief flare of satisfaction at the ‘_clang_’ he produced from it. Knockout didn’t seem terribly impressed.

“... Right,” he said, gesturing to Starscream’s damaged arm. “Can I see it?” Starscream’s petulant glare returned full force.

“_Fine__,_” he snapped, lifting the appendage gingerly. Knockout gently took it and ran a scanner over the injury, then released it.Starscream tucked it back against his side. 

“Well,” said Knockout, setting down his scanner and grabbing a datapad off a nearby counter, “I’ll need to replace a few struts and a couple pieces of armor, but other than that you should be fine.” Starscream smirked victoriously at Steve.

“_See?_ I  _ told  _ you it wasn’t that bad!” He crowed. Steve crossed his arms.

“Did you miss the part about having to  _ replace the struts?_” He asked incredulously. Starscream ignored him, turning his smirk on Knockout.

“Whenever you’re ready, _Doctor,_” he purred. Knockout sighed, looking at Steve.

“Don’t bother trying to reason with him, he’s always like this,” he said, unspooling a hardline connector that would put Starscream into medical stasis. He flicked open a medical port on Starscream’s good wrist.

“_Hey!_” Aforementioned seeker squawked.

“Night-night,” said Knockout, jamming the connector into the port and sending the override commands. Starscream’s optics went dark and he collapsed onto the berth with a loud  _clang._ Steve was appalled.

“Is that  _ allowed?!_” He sputtered. Knockout shrugged, pulling the connector back out again and spooling it back up into his arm.

“Not according to that ‘ethics seminar’ I had to take to be allowed to work here,” he said, using air quotes with a sneer, “but it’s the best way to get him down with the least amount of fuss. Hey, could get that?” He asked, pointing at a leg that was dangling awkwardly off the edge of the berth. 

Steve hauled it back up to sit with the rest of Starscream’s body, then stepped back hesitantly. 

“Thanks,” Knockout said, then wiggled his digits at Steve. “Now,  _ shoo. _You can stay in the waiting area if you like, I’ll come get you when it’s done.” Steve didn’t know if he could trust Knockout with Starscream’s prone body after _that._ He paused.

“Hold on, wait-” he arranged Starscream’s sprawled frame in a position that looked marginally less uncomfortable. “There,” he said, patting Starscream’s face affectionately. Knockout looked amused. 

“What was _that?_” He asked, cocking an optical ridge. Steve fidgeted.

“I don’t want his struts to get sore,” he said defensively. Knockout’s amusement seemed to fade a bit at the sincerity in his voice, replaced by something melancholy. 

“Neat,” he said, “now, begone!” 

This time, Steve complied. He didn’t see Knockout frown wistfully at Starscream’s carefully-arranged form before getting to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, here’s Knockout! He works at the Med-bay, but he’s still a prisoner. Cybertron is short on medics.
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, don’t forget to leave feedback! Thanks for reading! :)


	10. Megatron is Absolutely Batshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discuss Megatron. Warning for discussion of abuse and some really fucked up shit going on in Megatron’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for some really gross descriptions of emotional and physical abuse. It starts when Megatron’s point of view beginning in the second half.

“For the  last _time,_ Starscream,” said the therapist, servos at the sides of his forehelm, “I  _ have  _ report this. Megatron’s behavior is completely unacceptable, and if the Prime didn’t insist he get the same treatment as the rest of the prisoners I’d have recommended solitary confinement  ages  ago! I don’t even  _ believe  _ in solitary confinement, but I feel like that’s the only way to keep the rest of the prisoners safe from his abusive, violent tendencies!” Starscream blinked.

“You seem... _High strung_ today, Doctor,” he said. The therapist groaned.

“I apologize,” he said, “that was inappropriate. It’s been a...  _Trying_ cycle.” Starscream hummed sympathetically.

“I’m just saying, Knockout probably already has,” Starscream continued. “I don’t understand why everybody is so upset about this, I’m not made of  _glass!_ I’ve taken much worse.” The therapist made a very expressive face that was, for lack of a better description, extremely concerned and slightly disgusted.

“Starscream, I don’t know how to tell you that  _assaulting_ people in the shower is  _ highly abnormal behavior,_” he croaked. “As in, that it is _not_ something you should not have to anticipate, nor ‘power through,’” he added when Starscream opened his mouth to protest. The seeker closed it again, squirming in place uncomfortably. The therapist sighed.

“Well, aside from the...  _ Incident__,_ how was the rest of your decacycle?” He asked. Starscream perked up. 

“I’ve acquired  more  minions,” he boasted, “and they  _ love  _ me! All I have to say is ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ and they fall all over themselves to do my bidding!” The therapist smiled.

“A little kindness can go a long way,” he said. “Who are they?” Starscream tapped a digit to his chin, screwing up his face in thought.

“Let’s see... There’s Steve, Daniel, Weird Brenda, Shy Brenda, Arthur, Gerald, GroundBoy, Casey, Tracey, Macy, Lacey, Bob, Joe, John...” he counted off on his digits. “Uhm. I think there’s one named... Marker? No, wait-  _ Parker__,_ that’s right-”

“Starscream,” The therapist interrupted, “as nice as it is that you know all their names, who  _ are  _ these people? Only two of those designations made sense.” Starscream paused.

“Oh, they’re all vehicons. Steve brought them to me,” he said. The therapist nodded for Starscream to continue. “And they’re all  _nuisances!_ You’ll never  believe  what they did- kidnapping me to go see stupid smug  _Knockout!_ Oh, he’s just the  worst\- _‘You’re too damaged to walk, Starscream! Here, let’s get you some  extra  _ pain patches! _Are you okay, Commander?’_” He imitated in a nasally falsetto, gesturing mockingly. The therapist frowned.

“How is any of that  _ bad?_” He asked. Starscream rolled his optics. 

“He’s  _taunting me!_ I’m not some sort of- of  _ sparkling  _ that can’t handle a little pain!” The therapist laced his digits together in his lap and huffed a sigh. 

“Starscream, who gave the notion that kindness is somehow equivalent to weakness?” He asked, looking the seeker in the optic. Starscream’s mouth pulled into a thin line, and he looked sheepishly to the side.

“... Megatron,” he admitted, wings flattening. The therapist nodded.

“And _what_ is Megatron?” He continued. Starscream cringed a bit.

“A manipulative sociopath completely lacking in common sense,” he replied. “Sorry,” he muttered. The therapist shook his helm.

“Don’t be- I apologize if I came off as harsh. You were trapped in close quarters with him and used as a mech-shaped receptacle for his violent urges for _millennia._ He’s incredibly charismatic and powerful, it makes perfect sense that he warped your ideas about social behavior and hierarchy,” he said.“And I find it frankly _infuriating_ that there isn’t another facility to house him- the more I hear, the worse it gets. You shouldn’t have to put up with him.” Starscream snorted.

“Since the Prime seems to like him so much, maybe _he_ should house him instead of  _inflicting_ him on the rest of us and then running off to let somebody else handle him,” he sneered. The therapist chuckled. 

“That’s terrible,” he said, “but it would be so funny to watch.” Starscream nodded.

“See? At least  somebody  sees reason!” He said. The therapist smiled, but straightened a bit.

“In all seriousness, though- it sounds like Knockout is more of an ally to you than you think. What you interpret as mockery might just be basic decency,” he said. Starscream made a face.

“That sounds like a made-up concept, but whatever you say.  _You_ weren’t a Decepticon, though. You don’t know how we  think,” he said loftily. The therapist raised his optical ridges.

“You’d be surprised,” he replied. “I think I can get an idea.” 

...

Megatron stared holes into the ceiling from his berth, servos resting behind his helm. His frame was abuzz with pent-up energy from being confined to his cell  yet _again__-_ an indignity he would not allow to go unpunished once he made his escape.

... Someday. He was merely biding his time, waiting for an opening he could exploit. Soon, the Autobots would grow complacent in their so-called ‘victory.’ He would strike when they were weak and unsuspecting, and make their Prime regret ever disregarding him as threat.

Ah,  _ Optimus__._ The traitorous coward, sitting high and mighty in his tower while the rest of them _rusted._ Squandering all that power- power that  rightfully  belonged to  _ Megatron__-_ on the _weak_ and _undeserving. _

_ Disgusting__._ He would make him  _ suffer  _ for stealing that from him, just as he would make all his disloyal subjects suffer for having the  _ audacity  _ to believe that they could _abandon_ him.

Like  _ Starscream__-_ the sniveling little wretch who by all accounts had earned execution a thousand times over. Megatron’s struts twitched,  aching  to _pummel_ him into the ground where he rightfully belonged. Even after all this time, there was still something  _ delicious  _ about the way he cried and screamed. It never got old. It was perhaps the reason he was still online, scurrying and scheming and backstabbing. Megatron liked to watch him  _ bleed.  _

And bleed he would, once Megatron put an end to his little rebellion. He was going to  _ destroy  _ the coward for trying to abandon his rightful master, for believing himself above his station. 

Perhaps, this time, the message would stick. Part of him almost hoped it wouldn’t. He did so  _ enjoy  _ watching his Second suffer- and he just never  _ learned. _

By the time Megatron was through with him, Starscream was going to _wish_ that he had simply been executed. And if Megatron couldn’t do it the old fashioned way, he would have to get  _ creative. _

This ended _now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another weird mood whiplash, I know. Thanks so much for reading, don’t forget to leave feedback if you liked it! I’m going to go do something light-hearted to get rid of all the ick I got from exploring Megatron’s headspace.


	11. Enter Knockout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local Lonely Doctor Joins Cult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the feedback, guys- you’re the best! :)
> 
> Warning- this chapter contains some discussion of sex, as Knockout and Weird Brenda are in the same scene together.

The Hippie Club was distributing cubes amongst themselves at the energon dispenser when Knockout had approached them.

“I want in,” he said bluntly. Starscream paused in sprinkling a potentially unhealthy amount of additives into his fuel to look at him like he’d suggested they all lick batteries together.

“What,” he deadpanned. Knockout made an encompassing gesture at the group.

“_This,_” He said. “Your little orgy cult, or whatever’s going on here. I want in.” Starscream blinked, scrunching up his face.

“Um,” he said, “we don’t-”

“Oh, no- that is  _ definitely  _ what this is,” a vehicon with ‘sexual deviant’ painted on her chassis cut in, stepping forward. “Yeah, we frag  _ all the time.  _ In fact, I could give you a taste-”

“Brenda, no,” groaned one sporting the glyph ‘best,’ putting up a servo in front of her to stop her advance. Starscream’s expression went from bewildered to suspicious.

“Tell Megatron that I’m not interested in playing _politics_ with him,” he snapped. At the mention of the former warlord’s designation, the other vehicons fell into a defensive swarm around their leader. 

“Wait, no-” Knockout pleaded, raising his servos as a pacifying gesture. Starscream squawked from the center of the Horde of Vehicons.

“_Ack!_ Stop that, you buffoons!” He cried. Knockout could see his limbs and wings flailing above the vehicons’ heads, and stifled a laugh. Mockery would not endear him to this crowd.

They were drawing some looks, increasing Knockout’s sense of urgency. If word got back to Megatron before he got in their good graces, there would be no one to stop him from peeling off Knockout’s shiny paint and pinning it on his wall as a decoration. He could see it now: ‘Let this be a warning to all ye traitors.’ He shuddered. 

“No, no- that’s not-  _ please__,_ just hear me out!” He stammered, faced down with thirty identical, aggressively brightened visors. 

The vehicons froze. Even Starscream stopped struggling. 

Suddenly, Knockout was enveloped in a sea of purple and red, deposited right in front of Starscream. The seeker hummed sympathetically at Knockout’s disturbed expression.

“I know, right? It’s freaky when they do that,” he said. Knockout fidgeted.

“We’re not _actually_ going to interface, are we?” He asked nervously. “I mean, I  _ could__,_ but-” Starscream recoiled.

“No! What is it with you and... _Intimacy?”_ He asked with a disgusted little flutter of his digits.

“God- when you put it like  _ that__,_ you sound like a  _ church girl!_” Knockout muttered, grimacing. Starscream rolled his optics.

“Whatever. Minions, I need you to _expel_ him from the swarm, please,” he declared, making a haughty shooing gesture. Nobody moved.

“Sorry, sir,” chirped the vehicon with ‘best’ painted on his chassis, not sounding very sorry at all. “He said ‘please,’ he gets in. Them’s the rules.” Starscream spluttered.

“What? No-  _ I__,_” he slapped a servo to his chassis for emphasis, “am in charge of the Hippie Club, _I_ say who comes and goes, and- and _he's_ not getting  _ my  _ rank, is he?!” He asked, voice cracking a bit in distress. The vehicons all amended themselves hastily, cooing and cajoling.

_ “ _ _No-_”

“Oh, we’d  _ never__-_”

“-He’s _not_ replacing you, honey-”

“Of  _ course  _ you’re still our number one-”

This was officially the _weirdest _experience of Knockout’s life. The horrified look on Starscream’s face as somebody petted his arm suggested that he shared a similar sentiment. 

“Oh my god,” Knockout said, “this is a harem. I’ve joined a  _ harem__._” 

“How do you think  _ I  _ feel?” Starscream squeaked, looking for all the world as if he was attempting to subspace his entire frame. ‘Best’ gently pushed the offending servo away, and the seeker relaxed a bit.

“Thank you, Steve,” he murmured. The vehicon’s visor dimmed affectionately, and he addressed to the mob.

“Alright, people, that’s enough! I think he gets the picture,” Steve said. He turned to Knockout. “The other half of the reason we decided to let you in is because we need a  _ favor._” 

“Well, this news to  _ me!_” Starscream snapped indignantly. Steve shook his head.

“Oh, this isn’t club business- it’s a...  _ Grounder  _ thing,” he said, visor twinkling mischievously. Starscream made a face.

“_Ugh,_ do it somewhere  else!” He sneered, grabbing his cube and distancing himself from them. “I’m not touching _that_ with a fifty-foot pole!” 

_ Please don’t be a sex thing, please don’t be a sex thing_ _,_ Knockout mentally pleaded. Steve continued.

“No, we just need a big,  _ spiky__,_”  _ no, no, NO__-_ “very  _bad-tempered_ favor.” Knockout almost heaved a sigh of relief. Probably just murder, he could handle that. 

Wait.

Spiky ... _Bad-tempered_... 

Oh Primus, the vehicons were killing Starscream. 

Knockout looked between Steve and the impatient-looking seeker in horror, pointing at him as surreptitiously as possible. Steve’s field briefly erupted, barely long enough for Knockout to feel protective rage with an undercurrent of murderous intent. He stepped into his personal space, and Knockout could hear the whine of active combat protocols. Steve put a servo on his shoulder.

“If you even  _ think  _ about it, I’m shoving you into the trash compactor,” he said quietly, looking Knockout in the optics.

What the fuck.  _ What  _ the  _ fuck?! _

“You’re the guy from the cave-in,” Knockout blurted suddenly. Steve nodded. 

“Do we have an understanding,  _ Doctor?_” He asked, sounding in that moment  very much  like Starscream. Knockout shivered.

“Yeah- _Yes!_ I’m relieved, actually- I didn’t want to kill him. Please never do that again, I’m scared,” he blabbered. Steve nodded, stepping back. 

“Good boy. No, I need you to help us solve a bit of a  _pest_ problem\- remember when we visited you about a decacycle ago?” He asked, tapping pointedly on his forearm. Comprehension dawned fast.

“You’re  _ insane__,_” Knockout hissed, pulling Steve closer, “I helped Starscream with something like that once, and it ended  _very badly_ for him. Megatron doesn’t just  _ die__._” Steve’s field remained unchanged, and he still stared steadily into Knockout’s optics with his inexpressive visor. 

“Soundwave can’t stop us, here,” he said. “And we all  _ know  _ that you have _plenty_ of reason to hate that giant afthead, as well. We’re really not so different.” Knockout stiffened at the implication, face screwing up in a grief-stricken grimace before smoothing over again.

“Don’t go there,” he said lowly, “don’t  _ even  _ go there, or I’ll leave. I’m serious.” Steve’s field flared apologetically, but he crossed his arms.

“I’m just saying- it’s about damn time somebody  did  something about him. Something a bit more...  _ Permanent__._ Consider it a rite of passage.” A vehicon with a green triangle painted on his chassis looked between them confusedly.

“None of  us  had to kill anyone to get in,” he whispered. 

“Shush, Gerald,” Steve said, pushing him back. “He’s not a part of the  _ ‘in-crowd’ _yet. He’s not one of  _ us__._” He gestured to his frame. Gerald seemed to get the picture. Knockout shook his helm.

“This is  _ crazy__,_” he muttered. “But, I mean- it  _ would  _ be kind of satisfying to see him helpless for once. See how _he_ likes it when _he's_ thrown to the scraplets to be taken apart  _ piece by piece__-_ Ahem.” He unclenched his fists and relaxed struts he didn’t even know he’d tensed. Steve patted him jovially on the shoulder.

“That’s the spirit!” He chirped. “Welcome to the Hippie Club! We’ll start planning the murder tomorrow morning.”

Knockout wondered if Steve could even hear the words coming out of his vocalizer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vehicons have decided that Starscream, unrepentant war criminal and formidable air commander of the Decepticons, is now the Baby Friend. Thanks for reading, don’t forget to leave feedback if you enjoyed it! :)


	12. Knockout Fucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plotting begins. 
> 
> Warning: lots of mentions of robo-sex. Heavily implied robo-sex. You know, the general run of the mill when Knockout and Weird Brenda share a chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support and feedback, positive reinforcement from anonymous strangers really motivates me more than it should lmao. Here’s another!

Day One of plotting Megatron’s demise, held in Steve’s cell during Starscream’s therapist appointment, was focused on how they were actually going to bring him down.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t even have a  _ plan?!_” Knockout cried, covering his optics with his palms. Steve shrugged.

“Too many variables. That’s why we’ve got  you.” Knockout gave him a flat look.

“You invite me to a murder plot, and expect _me_ to do all the planning? Were you programmed with a _glitch?_ That’s just rude!” Lacey, who was painting some lewd-looking plug-ins using Starscream’s materials, looked over his shoulder.

“He’s got a point, there, Steve,” he said, jabbing a pink thumb at Knockout. Weird Brenda swiped the brush. 

“No, no, _no,_” she said, sharpening some of the angles, “these models are blockier than that. God, it’s like you’ve never even  _seen_ a triple-changer!” Steve reset his vocalizer, shaking his helm.

“What I  _ meant  _ to say is that you can fill us in on some important details. Like weak points, phobias, possible system intolerance glitches- the whole shabang.” Knockout rolled his optics.

“Well, I can tell you right now that blunt-force trauma is  out ,” he said, making a slicing motion with his servo. “And you’ll need a pretty resilient weapon if you want to make it through his armor- except his joints, naturally, but he’s had extensive experience protecting  those.  I’d say our best bet is probably either poison or a virus.” Steve nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said. “Which one will be the most  _ painful?_” Knockout shrugged. 

“It doesn’t matter, because we don’t have access to anything that deadly. Honestly, the most hazardous thing in this entire facility is probably the rust infection Block E’s been dealing with.” He shuddered. “Poor, quarantined bastards.” Steve looked at him thoughtfully.

“Hey, Knockout,” he said, “how long does it usually take before a rust infection becomes irreversibly fatal?” The medic grimaced. 

“Depends on how you catch it. If it’s mostly external, it becomes conspicuous pretty quickly. If it gets into your _internals_, it could take awhile to become noticeable. That’s why it spread so fast with Block E- their energon dispensers got contaminated. In fact, it would have gotten _worse_ if one of them hadn’t come down to get a strut... Replaced...” he trailed off, looking at the vehicon in awe. “Steve, you’re a genius.” Steve’s field radiated smug pride. 

“And it’s not like Megatron ever needs to go to the medbay. Not to mention, his pride won’t let him admit when he needs fixing- so he’ll ignore the symptoms until it’s too late!” Knockout nodded enthusiastically.

“-_And_ I have access to the quarantine zone, as well!” He said, then suddenly grimaced. “... But the decontamination procedure strips your paint off. Do you have any _idea_ how long it takes to get it  _just right?_ No, we can’t do that- _Eugh._” He shuddered. Steve nodded.

“We’ll keep that on the back burner, then. Do you have any substances in the med-bay that could be potentially poisonous?” He asked. Knockout frowned.

“Nothing that wouldn’t immediately implicate me as a suspect. Ugh. Back to square one.” They both frowned thoughtfully. 

Knockout inspected his claws, running through unsuccessful murder scenarios in his processor.

Steve stared at the hot pink sockets Lacey and Weird Brenda were painting, eyeing the obscene little bolts of electricity they were adding along some raunchy cabling-

“I’ve got it!” He declared, snapping his digits. Knockout almost fell out of his chair. “I have an idea!”

...

“I don’t see why  _ I  _ have to do it!” Knockout hissed, eyeing the guard stationed in the empty corridor warily. 

“Yeah,” whispered Weird Brenda, causing Lacey and Macy to make little noises of exasperation, “I’d be _more_ than happy to take one for the team!” Steve sighed.

“Because you’re the  _ sexy one__,_” he whispered back. “_Duh!_” Knockout blinked. 

“I’m very flattered, but still! It _sucks!_” Steve’s visor flashed.

“You know what  _ also  _ sucks? Watching Starscream get hurt and being unable to give him Megatron’s helm on a  _ silver platter!_” He growled quietly, beginning to pace. “I’m going to make sure he _never_ touches _my  _ precious, darling-”

“Oh my god,  _ fine!_” Knockout snapped. “Just  stop  that- that  _obsessiveness!_ It’s weird.” Steve nodded, making a little shooing motion with his servo.

“Godspeed, soldier,” he mocked. Knockout sneered at him, then smoothed it over and turned around. 

He strutted up to the guard, deliberately swinging his hips.  _ At least he’s well-built,_ he thought, giving the black and silver mech’s frame a once-over.

“Hey, _big boy,_” he purred, stopping just a  _ hair  _ closer than was socially acceptable. “How’s it hummin’?” The guard’s optics flicked to Knockout with all the regard one would hold for a gnat. Knockout batted his optics innocently.

“Eh,” the guard grunted with a half-shrug. Knockout fought the urge to groan. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you looking kind of lonely over here. I don’t suppose you’d mind a little...  _ Company?_” The guard blinked slowly, then shrugged again. 

“Eh.” Knockout figured that that was probably about as good as it was going to get. He sidled up to the larger mech, playfully bumping his hip on his outer thigh. No response.

“You know,” he mock-observed, “there aren’t any cameras in this corridor...”

“Quite the oversight,” The guard responded. Knockout shrugged.

“Well, we _could_ take advantage of-”

“Probably a bad idea.”  Seriously?!

“I apologize for being so forward,” Knockout said, “it’s just that I... Can’t help myself! You’re just so- so  _ big__._ And, if what I’ve heard is true, you’re willing to  _ bend  _ a few  _ guidelines__._” The guard raised an optical ridge.

“If you’re looking for illegal substances, you should find Roadburn,” he said robotically, as if reciting a script. Knockout grit his denta frustratedly.

“Oh, you have me all _wrong!_ No, I’m here on much more...” he ran a digit down the guard’s arm. “_Personal  _ business. Say, what’s your name?”

“Dismember.” 

_ What.  _ Knockout tittered nervously.

“Oh, that’s. Such a _nice_ designation! Um, _why_ do you call yourself that?  _ Why?_”Dismember shrugged.

“Used to work in the funerary services. We all had kind of morbid names,” he grunted. 

_ Sweet Solus Prime,  _ _why me?_ Knockout internally lamented. 

“Well, uh,  _ Dismember__,_ it’s- um.” He took a moment to compose himself. “It’s so  _hard,_ being a bot like me in a place like this,” he crooned. “All vulnerable and  alone, _helpless_...” he made puppy dog eyes at the guard.  _ Goodbye, dignity. We had a nice run. _

“Didn’t seem to be a problem when you were out committing war crimes,” Dismember muttered. Knockout’s smile was starting to look a bit strained.

“Who,  _ me?_” He cooed, making a dismissive gesture. “Alright, maybe a _couple_ itty-bitty,  _teensy-weensy_ war crimes. We  _all_ make mistakes!” 

“Seriously, mech- whatever you want, I’m not your guy,” said Dismember flatly. Knockout’s patience made its dramatic exit.

“_Listen__,_ buddy- I _want_ to frag! Can we  _ please  _ frag? I haven’t gotten any in a  _little_ too long, and you’re easy on the optics,” he snapped. 

Dismember stared at him a long time, then shrugged.

“Sure, why not? There’s a closet a little down the hall.” he said. Knockout wanted to strangle him. 

“That’s  _ it?_” He shrilled, completely fed up. “I just had to  _ ask?_” Dismember smirked, walking in the direction of the closet. 

“I like watching people beg,” He rumbled. Knockout’s spinal struts felt like they’d been liquified. He eagerly caught up. 

“You’re really fragging spooky, did you know that? It’s hot as the _Pit_,” he said jovially. Dismember chuckled as they disappeared around the corner.

“Well,” said Steve, “let’s all hope this guy’s not a serial killer. I kind of like Knockout.” He turned around, to find that Lacey and Macy had disappeared, leaving him alone with Weird Brenda. 

“That lucky  _ strumpet__,_” she cursed, cooling fans providing quiet background noise.

Steve was surrounded by idiots.

...

Knockout stumbled into the dispensary about six hours later, covered in black paint transfers and wearing a big, stupid grin. Starscream, back from the cycle’s appointment, was absolutely scandalized. 

“ _ Knockout! _ ” He exclaimed, once they were both safely enveloped within the Swarm. “What is the meaning of this?!” 

“Grounder stuff,” Knockout replied dreamily. Starscream glared sternly.

“I can _tell_ that you were fragging,” he snapped, “but what _I_ want to know is why Steve said there was a twenty-five percent chance you’d be  _ dead this evening!_” Knockout sobered a bit, furrowing his optical ridges at the vehicon.

“ _ Why would you say that?! _ ” He hissed. Steve shrugged helplessly.

“The guy was named _Dismember_, and he swept you away to a closet in a corridor without cameras. Excuse  me  for coming to conclusions!”

“Excuse _me_,” Starscream said, waving politely, “what the  _frag_ happened during my appointment?” 

“ _ Grounder stuff. _ ” Replied Steve and Knockout in unison. Starscream just looked between the two of them in frustrated bewilderment before throwing up his servos and stomping away. 

“Did you get the thing?” Steve asked quietly once Starscream was out of earshot. Knockout nodded, pulling a remote control for Megatron’s stasis generators out from behind one of his doors. 

“It was clipped on his _aft-_ that was some pretty awkward groping. Also, do you know how  _ painful  _ it is to have one of these wedged in there?” He complained, rubbing his arm. “You owe me, like, three favors.” Steve nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah- just  _ gimme!_” Steve made grabbing notions at the remote. Knockout held it behind his back.

“What’s the magic word?” He taunted. Steve glowered.

“_Now!_” He whined. Knockout stared him down. “Ugh,  _fine._ You’re officially in. Welcome to the club, valued member- blah, blah, blah.  _Please, _can I see the doohickey?” Knockout nodded.

“That will suffice,” he said loftily, handing it over. Steve cackled to himself, clutching it to his chest. He looked like a purple goblin.

“Lord Mega-_douche  _ won’t know what hit him!” He declared.

Knockout privately thought that Steve had been spending _way_ too much time around Starscream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I like this one as much, but I need it out of the way for the plot to advance.
> 
> Don’t forget to leave feedback if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!!! :)


	13. Starscream Ponders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thinking. Warning for Megatron, but nothing really happens with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Thanks for the comments and kudos, they always make my day!

It had been a weird cycle so far for Starscream. 

Half of his pink paint had been used up to make depictions of various types of interfacing hardware (something he should probably be angrier about, but he could appreciate the anatomical accuracy), Knockout had either been fragging or fighting someone of dubious moral standing, and now Marker was insisting on _clinging_ to him.

In the common room. In front of  _ everybody. _

“What,” Starscream tried, not quite processing the situation, “what are you _doing?_” Barker snuggled closer, and Starscream really didn’t know how to deal with that. 

“You looked lonely,” the vehicon supplied, field saturated with...  _ Ugh__._ Was that  _ affection? _

Starscream decided to handle this the way he handled any bizarre new development: anger.

“And what makes you think that I want your pity,  _ Harker?_” He sneered. 

“_Parker,_” the vehicon supplied patiently, completely unfazed.

“_Whatever,_” Starscream snapped, flexing his claws. “You will cease this...  _Strange diversionary tactic_ immediately!” Parker looked at him in a way that could have been considered pouting, had he a mouth. 

“But, I  _ like  _ you!” He whined. “You’re the best boss I’ve ever had!”

Well, _frag._ Now Starscream couldn’t maim him. He sighed, relaxing his servos. 

“If you insist on harboring such _disgusting_ sentiments, I  _ implore  _ you to channel them into more productive activities,” he said. “Like convincing the guards to give me a later curfew.” Parker thought about that a moment.

“Okay!” He chirped, prancing away. Starscream heaved a sigh of relief. Someone tapped on his shoulder.

“ _ Primus frag _ _-_” He yelped, whirling around. It was Soundwave. “Oh, _Pit_ no !” 

Soundwave, who had been deprived of his ability to record and play back footage, had been given a datapad by the guards. He held it aloft, showing it to Starscream.

‘>:(!!!!’ It said. Starscream gave him a deadpan stare.

“I appreciate the context,” he said, “how thoughtful of you to _be specific._” Soundwave cocked his head, then clumsily scribbled something else with his awkwardly spindly digits. 

It was taking awhile.

Finally, he presented Starscream with a drawing of Megatron squishing the seeker’s face into the ground with his heel. It was very detailed. Soundwave had drawn himself, as well- in the background, pointing and laughing. 

“Mature,” Starscream grumbled. He flipped the former spymaster off for good measure. Soundwave shrugged and started writing something else.

‘Soundwave: Bored. Starscream: Easy Target. Fact: Is funny when Starscream cries.’

Starscream frowned.

“I _don’t-_”

‘Soundwave: uses expression. Meaning: Takes joy in Starscream’s suffering.’ 

“Goodbye, Soundwave,” Starscream said, turning to leave. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned back around. 

‘Soundwave: Hates you too, and can’t wait for you to come crawling back.’

“Afthead,” Starscream muttered. He was unsure whether the weird shuddering Soundwave seemed to be experiencing was laughter or a conniption.

...

Starscream hadn’t noticed Megatron observing the interaction from the corner with a pensive frown, displeased with his former  Second’s unusual displays of self-control as of late.

Something would need to be done before Starscream became too enamored with his _ridiculous_ little allies- he seemed to be ignoring that  _ Megatron  _ was the focus of his existence. 

Starscream  _ knew  _ that he couldn’t function without his master- he mustmerely have been taunting him. Yes, he was playing one of his silly little _power games-_ that was it.

Megatron would simply have to do as he always did: put Starscream back in his place. Soon, everything would be as it has always been- and this  _ weakness  _ that had been festering within  _his_ Second would once again be reserved for him alone. 

For now, however, he would have to wait.

...

Starscream was significantly less moody once he’d painted a nasty picture of Soundwave strung up by his own internals. Unfortunately, he had used up the last of his light blue. Again.

He tossed the grisly painting behind him, onto an ever-growing pile of his colorfully aired grievances. The corner of its canvas ripped through the center of another, impaling a depiction of an offline Megatron clean through where his spark chamber would be. Starscream didn’t particularly care.

He’d been painting a _lot_ these past few cycles (mostly vengeful fantasies), and his anger was starting to peter out. 

Mostly.

He would still sit back and sip high-grade if Megatron were getting eaten alive by scraplets, he just... Didn’t have the energy to think about how pissed off he was all the time.

It was weird, and left him feeling kind of empty. _Tired._ He didn’t realize how much of his existence was fueled by rage until there was nothing left in the metaphorical tank. 

He sighed, grabbing a blank canvas. What _else_ was important to him?

_Perhaps Steve,_ whispered some traitorous, sentimental part of his processor.  _ We like Steve very much. _

Ew. No.

_We could paint him in the light of Luna 2,_ his clearly unhinged inner voice continued, heedless of his disgust.  _ Or, maybe we can have him stare at the viewer like he does at us- like we’re the most important person in the universe. It always makes us happy- _

Nope! Absolutely _not._ Clearly, Starscream had caught a virus. 

_ We’d need lots of purple, a bit of blue and silver, definitely some white... _

Hm. And Steve  _ was  _ an easy subject. No complex faceplate to analyze, relatively simple body plan-

_Yes, so endearing-_

Wait.

You insidious little _scrap heap!_

_And who’s going to tell us that we can’t paint our friend?_ His mind argued back.

_Minion!_ Not a  _ friend__,_ Starscream had no need for those! His processor was starting to sound like an  Autobot- _disgusting!_

_ We both know we’re a terrible liar, sweetspark. When was the last time anybody believed anything we said? We’re completely full of it. Just paint our stupid  _ boyfriend _and quit dallying! _

Alright, _alright,_ you incorrigible-

... Oh.

Starscream screeched and threw the blank canvas into the wall of his cell with such force that it startled Knockout, various socializing vehicons, and the guards stationed in the outside corridor. His vents were ragged as he stared at the scattered pieces of its broken frame.

There was no doubt about it, Starscream was  _definitely_ glitching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, first the edgy joth and now this.
> 
> I’ve officially taken the plunge, folks- this is where we’re going now. This story has started writing itself, and according to my subconscious, Starscream and Steve have to fuck. 
> 
> I sincerely apologize if you were expecting quality content, I’m completely incorrigible.


	14. Knockout Gets a Sugar Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is in motion. Starscream is a pining idiot. Knockout makes some Decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all so much for the comments and kudos!!!!! I’m having so much fun with this, I’m glad you guys are enjoying it too.

“Hello, Starscream,” the therapist said with a smile as the seeker entered. “How are you doing?” Starscream dropped,slouching, into his seat.

“I think I’m glitching,” he muttered. The therapist frowned in concern.

“What’s wrong? Do you need to visit the medbay?” He asked. Starscream buried his face in his servos.

“Primus, he’s a  _ drone__-_ and a _grounder_ at that! This is- just- it’s just-  _ ugh!_” He proceeded to scream into his servos. The therapist blinked.

“What? Are you having problems with somebody?” Starscream grimaced.

“You... You could say that,” he admitted. “Stupid problems. Problems for stupid people. Like _Autobots,_” he sneeded. 

“... Right,” said the therapist. “Care to specify?” Starscream shifted to curl up horizontally on the couch, facing away from his confidant to keep from crushing his wings.

“No. I just need a good smack, is all,” he grumbled. “I’m _obliterating_ what little dignity I have left.” The therapist sighed exasperatedly.

“Starscream, I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is,” he said. Starscream peeked suspiciously over his shoulder. 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kidnap you and stick you in Block E to rust,” he snapped. The therapist nodded.

“Cross my spark. It’s patient confidentiality, after all,” he said. Starscream nodded his assent.

“Good.” He turned back around and mumbled something, muffled by the cushions. The therapist leaned forward.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Mmfinffmmksv.”

“Starscream, I can’t understand you when you’re talking into the couch.” Starscream sat up exasperatedly, looking distraught.

“I think I like Steve!” He shrilled. “I like him _too much!_” The therapist nodded.

“And this is a problem _because...?_” Starscream looked at him like he was stupid.

“I’ve been  _compromised!_ This is  _ weakness!  _ Somebody could  exploit  this- like _Steve!_ Steve could put his weird, brilliant little mind to it and have me...  _ Have me!_” The seeker moaned and flopped back into the fetal position, so embarrassed that the therapist could feel it in his usually closely held field.

_Hoo, boy._ He didn’t paid enough for this.

...

“Are you done yet?”

“No, be patient.”

“... Are you done  _ now?_”

“Shut  _ up_, Steve!”

Silence.

“So... How about now-” 

“Steve, if you don’t  _zip it_, I’m going to take this blowtorch to your  _ vocalizer!_” Shouted John from her position in the janitor’s closet. “Do you want your murder device, or not?” Steve stiffened at that, quickly scanning the corridor for eavesdroppers. 

“Alright, sorry- just, how much longer is this going to  _ take?_” He whispered. John leveled him with a bright red stare.

“Every second you waste my time talking is a second Megatron isn’t _dead_ in the future.” She snapped, going back to rewiring the stasis generator remote. “Now, _shut up!_”

Steve sighed, bouncing on his pedes.   


  
He twiddled his thumb-digits. 

He tried standing on one leg, then the other. 

He stretched. 

He made an attempt to do a split. 

He got stuck in said split. 

He fell forward on his face and managed, with some shuffling, to put his legs back into their proper positions. 

He made a mental note to never do it again-

“Dude, what the _frag?_” Said John, eyeing the purple scuffs on the floor from Steve’s little ‘experiment.’ “Oh, it’s finished by the way.” She handed him the modified remote. 

“Awesome, thanks!” Steve said. John made a ‘hand it over’ gesture with her servo.

“And my _reward_ _?_” She asked expectantly. Steve nodded.

“Right, right-” he handed her a self-portrait of Starscream that had been leaning on the wall. The image wearing a crown and lounging on a throne, dangling Megatron’s severed helm from a single digit.

“Nice!” Said John, appraising it. “This’ll look great on my wall.” Steve nodded.

“Yeah, he has a bunch of these just shoved in a corner. It’s like he doesn’t even _want_ them,” he said. John nodded.

“Hm, neat. Well, I’ve gotta bounce. Bye!” Steve nodded, waving at her retreating back. He looked mischievously to the remote in his servo.

“Hello, beautiful,” he crooned, tracing a digit down the middle. “You and I are going to have some  _ fun__._”

...

“Guys!” Knockout chirped, prancing up to the Hippie Club at the energon dispenser. “Look at this!” He waved a datapad in front of Starscream’s face. Weird Brenda snatched it from across the table. 

“Oo, someone wrote you a  _ poem!_” She started reading it, then recoiled. Starscream swiped it from her with a growl.

“What is this? ‘Innards are blue, corpses are gray-  _ next time I spike you, I think you should stay?!_’” He looked like he’d accidentally stepped on a dead organic. “Knockout, is someone  _threatening_ you?”

“Yeah,” Weird Brenda chimed in, “I can’t tell if this is supposed to be kinky, romantic, or creepy.” Knockout waved them off.

“Who  cares? I’ve snagged myself a _sugar daddy!_” He smirked, putting one servo at his hip and tapping idly at his chin with the other. “Hm... Maybe I should make him get me some fancy polish first.” Shy Brenda, who had been observing the proceedings with mild concern, chimed in.

“Knockout, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” they said quietly. Starscream grimaced.

“Do I even  _ want  _ to know what a ‘sugar daddy’ is?” He asked. Knockout ignored him, stealing his datapad back to type up a list of expensive beauty products he wanted. 

“Grounder stuff,” said Shy Brenda, not wanting to have to witness that explanation. 

Starscream opened his mouth to protest, but his vocalizer stopped working when Steve crept into the room, giggling like a maniac. 

The fluorescent lighting bathed him in a sickly sheen, and his visor was flashing with mirth. The bright red paint of his identifying glyph, signifying his important position in Starscream’s ranks, clashed horribly with his muted color scheme. He was hunched over from his laughter, and his scuffed legs twisted awkwardly underneath him- as if he’d bent his joints out of place. He was clutching something in his clumsy little servos, guarding it close to his chest like a gremlin with stolen goods. 

By the Allspark, he was  _beautiful_.

“Hey Starscream,” he said, scurrying into to the Swarm, “watch  _ this!_” He pressed a button on what looked like a stasis generator remote. 

All the vehicons looked to Megatron expectantly, but Starscream couldn’t take his optics off of Steve.

Nothing happened.

The warlord just sat across the room, talking to Soundwave. Steve pressed the button again. 

Still nothing. 

Megatron seemed to take notice of the multitude of identical visored gazes staring him down. He frowned, but otherwise ignored them. All the vehicons looked to Steve.

“No... _no!_ Are you  _kidding_ me?!” He howled. He smashed the remote on the ground, stomping on it repeatedly before leating a huff.

Starscream was spellbound.

The vehicons began murmuring amongst themselves about the failure.

“Well, I think I figured out what happened,” Knockout said. The vehicons all looked to him, but Starscream was still staring dreamily in the direction Steve had gone. Openmouthed. 

“I worked hard on that,” John grumbled, “What went wrong?” Knockout smiled eerily.

“I received a ping from the medics working in Block E. Apparently, _Airachnid_ just went offline. Curious thing, really- you’d think it would be from the rust, but her frame just started  _ convulsing_\- almost like her _stasis generators_ were malfunctioning,” he purred. His smirk had widened to a full-on grin. “I’ll admit to  _ maybe  _ having a part in that.” The vehicons stared at him blankly for a moment, digesting the implications of Knockout’s admission.

Suddenly, they broke out into applause.

“You know what?” John said. “I’m not even mad. That glitch had it coming.” 

Starscream didn’t hear any of this, still staring longingly at after Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knockout is the Epitome of be gay, do crimes. And now he has a creepy joth sugar daddy. He’s unstoppable.
> 
> Poor Starscream, he’s in uncharted territory. He’s doing his best. 
> 
> Don’t forget to leave feedback, if always makes my day!!!!


	15. Starscream Has Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Steve and Starscream are oblivious. Wheeljack lets Miko name his inventions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!!! Thanks again for all the support, I’m having the time of my life writing this (hence the frequent updates). Warning: Megatron appears briefly, but he doesn’t do anything.

The second Megatron Assassination Meeting was held in Groundboy’s cell, because Steve had trashed his own in a fit of rage.

“So,” He said to Knockout after an icy five minute stare-down, “is there anybody  _ else  _ you’re planning to murder using the club’s resources, or is this just a  _ one time thing?_” Knockout shrugged.

“I wouldn’t call this ‘planned,’ per se,” he said, “it was more of a spur-of-the-moment decision. I saw Airachnid’s remote next to Big M’s and, well... I figured you wouldn’t mind. _Much._” Steve visor flickered in a manner akin to optic twitching. 

“Just be glad that Starscreamprobably didn’t register that I failed. He seems to have acquired some kind of helm injury. Seriously, I had to  physically _guide_ him to the med-bay and he just stared at my servo the entire way. We passed  _ Megatron__,_ and he didn’t even notice!” The vehicons all made various noises of concern. 

“That bad?” Daniel asked. Steve nodded gravely. 

“If  _ you__,_” he pointed accusingly at Knockout, “hadn’t just let the  _rust_ kill Airachnid, we wouldn’t have to worry about people hitting poor Starscream over the helm!” Knockout wasn’t impressed.

“You’re a  _hypocrite_ if you’re actually angry with me about squishing that  _ bug,_” he snapped. “Don’t worry, though- Megsy’s next on my shit-list. There is literally no one alive that I hate more, now.” Steve’s visor dimmed a fraction.

“Good ,” he hissed. “Can you get the other remote from your new mech-toy?” Knockout looked sheepish.

“He said that the sneaky theft was  _ sexy_, but now he carries it in his subspace.” Steve stared at him for a long moment.

“Alright,” he said, “then we’re doing the rust idea.” Knockout groaned. 

“ _No!_ My beautiful finish!” He whined. Steve crossed his arms, completely unsympathetic. 

“Next time you want to plan an assassination and need our help, you  _ ask  _ first. No more nasty surprises,” he scolded. “Besides, it’s not like it’s _hard_ to get re-painted.”

“It’s just the  _ principle  _ of the matter!” Knockout said, face buried in his servos. Steve sighed.

“Seriously, mech,” Daniel interjected, “Did you think we’d _pass up_ a chance to  kill _Airachnid? _She was an afthead!” There were various murmurs of agreement. Knockout snorted.

“What happened to ‘peace, love, and fragging?’” He snarked. Steve picked at his pointy digits.

“That rule doesn’t apply if someone sucks,” he said matter-of-factly. The vehicons all nodded along with him, as if there had been an serious discussion about the matter and that was the agreed-upon answer.

_Hell, _thought Knockout, watching Gerald insert broken glass into his intake,  _ they probably actually did. _

“Anyway,” Steve continued, “we’re doing the Rust Plan now. And then, once Megatron is a disgusting, grody corpse, Starscream and I can set him on fire and dance together under the moonlight.  _ Intimately__._” He steepled his digits together like a super-villain, humming in satisfaction at the fantasy.

Knockout really didn’t want to know what sort of ‘intimate’ dancing Steve wanted to do with Starscream. Based on the awkward fidgeting of the rest of the Hippie Club, he could guess that they shared a similar sentiment.

“And _then,_” Steve rambled on, heedless of the discomfort that was becoming palpable in the room, “I’ll grab him by the waist and do that ‘French Dip’ thing I saw on the human media frequencies!”

“You say that, but he’s heavier than he looks,” Knockout couldn’t help but point out, holding up a digit. Steve sighed dreamily.

“He _sure _ _is!_ He’s got so many  _parts!_ His internals must be _extremely_ complicated, it’s mesmerizing how the pieces all move together...” 

Steve just kept talking, losing himself in sharing _everything_ he liked about Starscream. Knockout squirmed a bit. John flashed her visor sympathetically.

“It’s okay, you get used to it. I had to sleep in the bunk above his for  _ seven thousand years,_” she said. Knockout shuddered. “Honestly, it’s kind of a wonder that he doesn’t get his aft kicked more often.” 

“... And,  _ oh__-_ have I mentioned how much I like his _wings?_ They’re so  expressive, he’s just absolutely _gorgeous_, did you know that I love him? I would  _ die  _ for Starscream, he’s the light of my life...”

“You have no  _idea_ how close I am to changing that statistic,” Knockout muttered darkly. 

...

It took about thirty seconds after Steve had left the med-bay for Starscream to process what was happening around him. The servo that the vehicon had grabbed to tug him along was still tingling where his servo had made contact. 

_I probably need this, _ he thought, staring resignedly into the flashlight a medic was shining at his optic. 

“Visual feed appears to be functional. Can you answer a few questions?” She asked.

“Doctor, what do you do if you don’t want to like someone?” He asked hoarsely, staring at the far wall. “How do you turn it off?” The medic blinked.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked. Starscream ignored her.

“He’s growing on me like rust. He’s lulled me into complacency, and I don’t know how to make it _stop!_” He looked at her, optics pleading. “That conniving little glitch probably had this planned from the start, but I don’t even care! Bit by bit, he’s been winning me over- and I can see it  _all_ in retrospect!” The medic pulled away a bit, frowning uncomfortably.

“Sir, I’m sorry that you’re having relationship issues, but I really need to make certain you don’t have a processor injury,” she said. Starscream flopped dramatically onto the medical berth, pouting at the ceiling. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming!” He croaked defeatedly. “First I let him share my art materials, and then I keep his paintings, _then_ I  _ show them off_, then his opinion becomes _important_ to me, and  _then_ I let him parade into my cell with his little band of  _ hooligans__,_ and  then  he turns them into my loyal minions, and then he  cares about my well-being, and then I label him the _best_ in front of  everybody, and then I _don't_ maim him for dragging me off to the med-bay  _ twice_, and now I’m getting _hugged_ by _drones_ in the  _middle of the common room_ like some sort of- of  soft-sparked _idiot-_”

“Sir, I need you to _calm down._ You’re overheating,” The medic interrupted, pressing a servo to Starscream’s forehelm. He whined pathetically. 

“The  _only_ highlight of this horrible cycle of epiphanies was hearing that the stupid spider glitch is dead,” he said. “She tied me up and left me for the Autobots, once. I didn’t like her.” The medic floundered.

“_Sir-_” she began, but Starscream interrupted her. 

“I’ve fallen so far,” he mourned, “Megatron was right. I’m  _ pathetic__._” The medic massaged the sides of her helm in frustration. 

“If you would _stop being _ _ ridiculous__-_” she said through clenched denta, and Starscream sat up abruptly.

“You’re right, I  _ am  _ being ridiculous!” He said, snapping his digits. “That’s exactly what Megatron would  _ want  _ me to think! And who won the war? Not  _him!_ Frag that guy!” The medic sighed exasperatedly.

“_Fantastic.  _ Now,  _ please-_” 

“This is  _my _ life! So what if I want to have emotions? Who’s going to stop me? I’m going to have the most  _disgusting_ feelings, and I’m going to get them everywhere- and Megatron can _go kiss a scraplet!_” He grinned, exhilarated. “I’m free now, and I can do what I want!” 

“Lovely. Sir, I’m _serious-_”

“Isn’t it? Oh  _ thank you_, doctor! You give the _best_ advice.” He gripped the poor medic’s shoulders, looking her dead in the optics with a with a somber expression. She blinked. “If you ever need anybody killed, simply notify me. I owe you _one_ favor. Ta-ta!” 

He patted her cheek and skipped away, practically on cloud nine. The medic just watched him leave, completely at a loss for words.

“But...” She trailed off, then slouched resignedly. She had more important matters to attend to.

...

As it turned out, accepting one’s emotions after millions of years of suppression and bluster was more difficult in practice.

Especially when passing by Megatron and Soundwave, both of whom were staring at him like he was a cube of high-grade.

“_Starscream,_” Megatron purred, “so nice of you to join us.”

Starscream started walking faster. One more corner to go until he was at the cell block. He heard the  _ clomp_ing of Megatron’s heavy gait in pursuit, gaining on him until the former warlord circled in front of him. Starscream stopped, taking a couple steps back.

“Oh, come now,” Megatron said, looming over him, “no need to be so skittish. I think we’re long overdue for a  _chat_.” 

Starscream looked at him, then back at Soundwave, further down the hall. He turned back around.

“... No thank you,” he said politely, and simply went _around_ Megatron . 

  
_Clomp, clomp, clomp._

He started speed-walking.

_Clomp-clomp-clomp-clomp._

Megatron followed suit, a few steps behind him.

Starscream started jogging.

  
_Clompclompclompclompclomp!_

Megatron kept up.

Starscream sprinted around the corner, and ran smack into a guard. Megatron, not far behind him stopped just shy of the tangled up mess of limbs and curses. When the guard finally pulled herself free, she looked between the two Decepticons with an expression of pure exhaustion.

“Again? _Really?_” She asled. Starscream was surprised to find her ire directed at Megatron rather than himself. The former warlord fumed in silence, attempting to loom threateningly over her as so often did to Starscream.

“That is none of your concern,” he growled. The guard wasn’t having it. 

“Uh-uh. Back it up, buddy.” She unsubspaced a briefcase with a logo that read ‘Bad Toys For Bad Boys.’ “We got a new shipment of sophisticated stasis lock controllers today. These things can make you _smell colors._” 

Megatron glowered, but took a couple steps back. The guard fluttered her servo in a shooing motion. Megatron shot Starscream one last threatening look, then stalked back around the corner. Starscream hardly dared to vent until the  _clomp_ing had faded into the distance, and then turned to the guard.

There were many things he wanted to say.  _ Thank you,  _ perhaps, or  _why did you defend me?_ Instead, pointing to the new controllers, he blurted:

“Who in the Pit is  _ naming  _ those things?!” The guard looked at the briefcase, then shrugged.

“Wheeljack makes ‘em. Apparently, he’s got an organic friend that he lets do the honors.” Starscream sighed.

“Why am I not surprised,” he muttered, then stared at the guard with an uncomfortable intensity. “Um. Tha-a... Than-” he reset his vocalizer. “Thank...?”

“We got a report about what happened to your arm,” she said, shrugging again. “The warden suggested implementing more extensive measures to keep him from hurting people. ‘S just my job.” 

Starscream opened his mouth, then closed it. He held up a digit, and pointed to his cell block.

“Goodbye,” he said, and power-walked away from the awkward situation.

When he got back to his cell, he decided to paint Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megatron doesn’t walk, he Clomps. Look at those big ol’ stompin’ feet! He’s a clomper.
> 
> Starscream’s identity crisis exacerbates. Steve is becoming a mob boss. The employees of this facility don’t get paid enough. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!! Don’t forget to leave feedback if you enjoyed! :)


	16. Starscream Has Emotions 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream continues his existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue. This is a long one, folks. Also, I made a Walt Whitman reference.

One cycle after Starscream had declared himself loosed of limits and imaginary lines, he had done nothing but sit in his cell and paint.

He hadn’t thought about anything other than Steve or his experience with the guard since said incident had occurred.

Her behavior was fascinating to analyze- holding  _Megatron_ accountable for his actions, refusing to be intimidated by him, risking his ire for  _ Starscream  _ of all mechs... 

It just didn’t make sense. The only possible thing she had to gain from doing that was satisfaction at thwarting Megatron.

He had entertained the idea, briefly- that she simply hated Megatron more than Starscream and wanted to frustrate him- but if that were the case, he had realized, she would have used her remote. So, that possible motivation was out. 

It took him a little while longer to remember what his therapist had said about ‘basic decency,’ and he began to wonder if it was actually _real._

Then, he realized that his fuel levels were getting critical, and that joints were feeling stiff from sitting in the same position for such a long period of time. He stood, stretching his arm struts over his helm and fluttering his wings. He relaxed, sighed, and turned to the entrance-

And promptly shrieked.

Weird Brenda, who had been lounging against the doorframe, jumped. Starscream pointed a shaking digit at her.

“How- How  long  have you  _been_ there?!” He stammered. She tapped her chin in thought.

“Oh, probably a few minutes. You were pretty engrossed in that,” she said, waving her servo at his artwork. “What _are_ you painting, anyway?” 

Starscream made a facial expression equivalent to an error 404 message.

“Um,” he said, intending to stop her from interloping, but it was too late.

“Oh my god,” Brenda said, shifting her gaze between Starscream and his painstakingly detailed, incredibly sensual portrait of Steve in the light of Luna 2. 

His visor was dimmed, and what was very clearly Starscream’s delicate servo was cupping the vehicon’s face. The thumb digit was resting where Steve’s mouth would be, tracing the line that bisected his faceplate. 

“I can explain?” Starscream squeaked. Brenda started cackling.

“Oh my  _ god,_” she repeated. “This is fragging  _ rich!_” Starscream gaped, feeling an odd combination of offended and terrified.

“I-  _ hey!_” He whined, blocking her view of the painting with his wings as they sagged. Brenda laughed harder. 

“I- I’ve gotta tell the rest of the gang, this is  _insane!_ They’re gonna _lose it!_” Starscream’s lines chilled at the thought.

“No- _no!_ Absolutely  not!” He yelped. “Have you any _idea_ what could- no, of _course_ you do, you little pit-spawn! Ugh. Just... Don’t tell anyone! That’s an _order!_” He jabbed his digit at her in a manner he hoped was authoritative and threatening. 

It was not.

“Or  _ what__,_” Brenda drawled, pushing the digit out of her face, “you’ll throw a _hissy fit?_” 

Well, _yes-_ but that clearly wouldn’t work on her. It was time to start embracing his icky emotions.

“No,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’ll  _ cry. Really hard.  _ And it will be ugly, and get everywhere, and it’s going to make everybody uncomfortable. And they’ll say, ‘Oh, Weird Brenda, why would you inflict upon us such a terrible plague?’ And then you’ll have a whole  _ host  _ of other problems because you couldn’t  _ mute it__._” 

Silence. He smirked victoriously as Brenda just stared at him in horror.

“Oh, honey,  _no-_ I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was so important to you. If it really matters that much, I won’t tell,” she said with disgusting sincerity, rubbing Starscream’s arm in a manner that was probably meant to be comforting but was having the opposite effect. Starscream’s confidence wavered.

“Um... Yes!  _ Good!_” He exclaimed, trying to salvage his sense of victory. “You will obey my command, minion!” Brenda nodded.

“Okay,” She said, as if she were humoring a child. “Don’t worry- your secret’s safe with me. We haven’t seen you out and about in awhile- why don’t you come get a cube?” 

Starscream, completely discombobulated at her response, only nodded mutely and let himself be led to the dispensary. 

_ They must think I’m a very ugly crier, _he thought, awestruck at his newfound trump card to keep his minions in line.  _ It’s a good thing I don’t cry. _

...

“Oh, come on- it’s not _that bad,_” Steve said, elbowing Knockout playfully.

Knockout, who would have been mistaken for a corpse had his optics not remained online, fumed in Steve’s doorway.

“_Here,_” He snapped, shoving a small vial at Steve’s chest. “If Starscream’s not grateful for this, I’m going to  _ kill you._” He proceeded to push his way into the cell and snatch the meager insulating sheet off the berth.

“ _ Hey, _ ” Steve whined. “That’s mine!” Knockout glared petulantly at him, wrapping the soft pink material around his shoulders.

“Go shove it up your exhaust port, little piss-boy,” he sneered, and shoulder-checked the vehicon on the way out, makeshift cape fluttering behind him. 

...

“... And so then, the insecticon shoved this guy into the _trash compactor,_ right? Like, he was kicking and screaming and there was energon  _ everywhere_, and then he turns back to us. And we’re all, like,  _ horrified_, and then he’s all like ‘Talk slag get fragged.’ Like, I didn’t even _know_ they could talk until then! It was _crazy!_” Tracey chattered animatedly, using wild gestures to recount his story. The whole table exploded into raucous laughter.

Starscream frowned at his cube, which had gone untouched for so long that all the additives he liked had settled at the bottom. He stirred it again with a digit, watching the sparkling metal and mineral flakes swirl around inside. 

“Hey,” Weird Brenda elbowed him. “What’s up?” Starscream muttered something noncommittally, shrugging. 

Another elbow.

“Is this about,” she looked around before leaning in to whisper, “_you-know-who?_” Starscream hunched into his cube, field radiating irritation. Primus, Brenda was  _ terrible  _ at this. 

“No,” he muttered. “I’m _fine._ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brenda seemed to take that as a ‘yes.’

“Hey, I was serious about not telling-” Starscream felt his claws sink into the table in frustration.

“It’s- That’s  _ not it__,_ Brenda!” He insisted a little too loudly. 

The table fell silent, staring at the two of them.

“Everything okay?” GroundBoy asked. Starscream scowled at his fuel, finally taking a sip to avoid the situation.

“Yeah,” Weird Brenda answered for him. “It’s just a rough night. ‘Scuse us.” She beckoned Starscream, who followed _only_ out of a desire to be out from under the stares of the rest of the vehicons. 

Brenda brought them to a secluded table in the corner, out of earshot.

“Hey, what’s your deal lately?” She asked. “You’ve been pretty down. It has us all worried.” 

Starscream found himself at a loss for how to respond to such sincerity, so used to navigating tumultuous political alliances while suppressing his own feelings for fear of harboring weaknesses. He grimaced.

“This... This is so  _ weird,_” he murmured, “this  whole situation is just...  _ Bizarre!_” Weird Brenda nodded, pushing his fuel further into his servos. Starscream took a sip unconsciously.

“Mhm,” she said, “wanna talk about it?” Starscream furrowed his optical ridges.

“That’s just  _ it,  _ though,” he said, tapping a digit nervously on the side of his cube, “I _shouldn't_ want to, but I  _ do._” 

“Psh,” Brenda bumped her knees against his thigh affectionately. “That’s a load of slag. Everyone needs companionship sometimes. It’s okay to want to have  _ friends__,_ Starscream.” 

The seeker just frowned in confusion, shaking his leg a bit and rattling the bench. 

“Everybody says these things like they’re normal,  _ natural,  _ even- but I don’t know where this is all _coming from._ It’s like the rules  changed  on me when the war ended, and now I don’t know what to  _ do._” He looked to Brenda for help. She tilted her helm.

“Elaborate,” she said. “What do you mean by ‘these things?’” Starscream blinked.

“What are you  _ talking about?_” He snipped agitatedly, gesturing to the Hippie Club. “_That!_ That- that  _openness._ The _commonplace vulnerability!_ It’s like you all are walking around with exposed  sparks! That is _fragging_ _weird__,_ and yet it seems to be what everyone expects to happen! There’s not- it’s just too  _ easy!  _ Life isn’t  like that,  so why is it happening here? Why am I happier here than I ever was when I had  _power?_ This is  supposed  to be a _punishment-_ I can’t even  _ fly__-_ but I’m _not _ _ miserable!_” Brenda nodded.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” She asked. Starscream leaned over the table, clutching his forehelm.

“ _ No, _ ” he whimpered, “it’s really, _really _not.” 

“I don’t understand,” Brenda said, shaking her helm.

“It’s just- What does that say about my life- that it’s so miserable that  _prison_ is practically a  _ vacation?_” He spat. “For a long time, I thought- I mean, I was  _ proud  _ of all the struggle I had to go through to just  stay _alive__._ Because- because struggle begets _success._ Because success is _survival,_ and the more you distance yourself from anything that can be used against you, the more you plot contingencies for every possible situation, the longer you live. And- for  _ years, _I was proved right, time and time again.” 

Brenda didn’t say anything, simply brushing her field against his supportively. He continued,

“And every time I tried to  get away,  every time I _broke those rules,_ everything went horribly awry. But now, outside of the context of the Decepticons, I’ve been taking all sorts of stupid risks- opening up, trusting people,  _ leaving Megatron-  _ and they’ve all paid off.” He looked at her. 

“Brenda, that has  _never happened before._ By this time, whatever new desperate attempt at trying to change my circumstances I’ve enacted has fallen to pieces. When I left, on Earth- I lost my t-cog, nearly starved, and almost died on multiple occasions. When I got captured, I was literally concocting plans to get back into Megatron’s good graces. Because life outside of that system- outside of  _him-_ was completely unsustainable. When I left him  _ here,  _ I thought I’d maybe have a laugh and then get smacked back into line. I didn’t know that I would...  _ Succeed._”

Brenda stared at him for a long moment.

“Do you know why I think we lost the war?” She asked. Starscream cringed, taking a long gulp of his fuel to avoid the topic. Brenda continued, “It’s because life  _ within  _ Megatron’s system is completely unsustainable. It didn’t work for anybody, and we all fell apart instead of cooperating to work towards a common goal. We didn’t care about the cause, or each other. We all had different priorities. There’s nothing to fight for, really, when you don’t care about anyone other than yourself.” Starscream winced at that.

“What about you lot?” He asked, looking back to the Hippie Club. “You seem to cooperate.” Brenda shrugged.

“The ones who didn’t got killed. If I didn’t have my platoon, I would have gone _insane. _They had my back, and it kept me alive. We always said that after the war we’d get a place to live together, because we couldn’t imagine life without each other. And then I was an idiot and got arrested.” Starscream looked at her curiously.

“What did you _do?_” He asked. She scratched the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Got overcharged and vandalized Sentinel Prime’s grave. I was mad that he got all this glory even though he didn’t care about people like _us_.” She didn’t have to specify to whom ‘us’ referred. Starscream smirked.

“Good job,” he said, “I think desecration is becoming the Decepticons’ new modus operandi.” Brenda snorted. 

“Nice,” She said. “But, in all seriousness, the reason you never having any good allies is because he isolated you and made himself the only person you could depend on. Well, and you were an aft. You’re still alive due to a combination of your strategic genius and his sick need to make you suffer. It was kind of disturbing, looking back on it.” 

Starscream stared at her.

“Wait, what?” He asked. Brenda nodded.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, he really seemed to enjoy hurting you _way_ too much-”

“No, no,” Starscream said, waving a hand. “Go back, before that. You think I’m a _strategic genius?_” Brenda stared at him blankly. “I mean, I _am_, of course- it’s simply that. Erm. Well, I’m just so _brilliant_ that no one _recognizes_ it-”

“Chill, dude. It’s fine. I just meant that you’ve made a _lot_ of good plans.” Starscream blinked.

“I mean, I’ve made lots of  _really bad_ plans, too-” He couldn’t help but add. Brenda held up a digit.

“Oh, big time- but when you know what you’re doing, you  _know what you’re doing._ You know what I mean?” She asked. Starscream nodded. 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is: yes, your life has sucked more than prison because you had all the wrong allies, but now you’ve got us. We like you. A _lot_. Seriously, you should see how Steve has been going _nuts_ over-” She clapped a servo over her faceplate, where her intake was hidden. Starscream narrowed his optics.

“What?” He asked suspiciously. “What is Steve planning?  _ Betrayal?!_” His lines ran cold at the thought, and his optics darted frantically, looking for his wayward minion. Brenda snapped her digits in his face.

“Hey, hey, hey- _No._” She said. “I was literally _just_ talking about- ugh, never mind. It was supposed to be a surprise, Steve’s gonna _kill_ me.” Oh, dear- Starscream desperately hoped that Brenda wasn’t this bad with  all  her secrets.

“_What?_” He asked, more wary than frantic this time. Brenda ex-vented defeatedly.

“For the past deca-cycle or so, Steve’s been plotting to kill Megatron.”

_That_ hit Starscream like a ton of bricks. 

“I beg your pardon,” He said. “Steve, who likes painting pictures of us  _ hugging, _is planning a  _ murder?!_” Brenda nodded.

“Yeah. Technically, he killed Airachnid the other day when Knockout switched out the stasis-lock remotes. And then he threw a fit and broke it. That was why we were cheering the other cycle, you were  _there._ Dude, how did you miss that?” 

Ah, yes. The other cycle. When Steve had been looking picturesque in the dispensary, and Starscream had practically gone catatonic.

“Oh,” Starscream said, “must have... Slipped my mind.” Brenda looked at him like he’d announced that he was actually three minibots in a suit of armor. 

“Right,” She said. “Anyway, yeah. There’s been a ton of drama. Um... When he actually does it, could you do me a favor and act surprised? _Please?_” She looked at him imploringly. Starscream stared into space. 

“Hm. Excuse me,” he said, standing and downing the rest of his fuel. Brenda’s visor brightened in panic.

“_You didn’t hear it from me!_” She cried desperately. Starscream didn’t hear her, off in his processor again.

After all, grounder or not, Steve had just become the hottest thing on two legs- and Starscream was going to  _ get that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you. I TOLD y’all they were gonna fuck. Also, Weird Brenda is starting to become the medium through which I channel my headcanons.
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading!!! Please leave feedback if you liked it, it motivates me!


	17. Starscream Fucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Trash Train, folks, this is your conductor speaking. Today, we’re going on a one-way trip straight to hell. 
> 
> Warning- Nothing explicit, but it gets a little R-rated this chapter. You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is a bottom, fucking fight me. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support, guys! I’m showing my gratitude by posting bad almost-smut.

“Steve.” The vehicon’s attention shot to the entrance to his cell. Starscream was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and hip cocked.

“Oh! Hi, Starscream! I didn’t see you there,” he chirped, placing the vial of rust on his berthside table. “Sorry about the mess.” He gestured to the still mostly-trashed cell.

Starscream sauntered over and delicately picked up the deadly contaminant, eyeing it critically. Steve fidgeted nervously.

“Um, how’s your helm? Did you get that injury fixed up?” He asked. Starscream hummed, shaking the vial a bit and watching the flakes of rust break down inside. 

“Never better,” he said absently, still staring at it. “Rust- how  _ creative__._ I never thought of that.” He placed it back on the table, and stepped into Steve’s personal space. 

The vehicon stumbled back a bit and wound up on his berth. He laughed nervously.

“What- What do you mean by that?” Starscream chuckled, gently lifting Steve’s chin with the clawed point of his digit. 

“Don’t play coy with me- I know what you’re doing. I’m almost offended that you didn’t invite me to the _party_,” he purred, mock-pouting at him. Steve could feel his spark pulse quicken.

“I- I’m sorry,” he stammered. Starscream pulled back a bit, frowning at him.

“There’s nothing to apologize  _ for_,” he said, and pushed against Steve’s chest with one servo until his back was against the wall. He straddled the vehicon’s lap. “In fact,  _this_ is a  _ reward__._” 

Steve’s cooling fans clicked on, and his arms instinctively encircled Starscream’s waist. The seeker tapped his faceplate, smirking.

“Open,” he commanded. Steve obediently transformed away the plating over the lower half of his face, revealing his relatively simple intake opening. Starscream proceeded to shove his glossa into it, warm and wet and tasting of magnesium fuel additives. 

_ Well, then. _

Not to be outdone, Steve contracted his intake tubing and drew the seeker further in. He reached up to trace one of his partner’s wing-joints delicately. Starscream gasped, fluttering his wings and hooking his claws into seams on Steve’s shoulders.

Steve took that as an invitation to continue his ministrations, pulling Starscream flush to his chest and fondling the sensitive joints and seams along his wings. The seeker let out a needy keen, arching into the touches and grinding their interface panels together.

Steve moaned at the sensation, tightening his hold on Starscream’s waist. Feeling bolder, he stroked his digits along the bottom edge of one wing, tracing it all the way to the tip. Starscream practically melted, wings dipping to rest at his back. He shuddered and clung to his partner’s shoulders for dear life.

Steve’s engine revved, and he broke the kiss to push Starscream flat on his back, positioning himself on top. He gently removed the seeker’s claws from his shoulders, lacing the digits of his left servo through those on Starscream’s right. 

Starscream panted and stared at him, bright optics half-lidded and cooling fans running on their highest setting. Steve hummed in satisfaction, feeling their charged fields mingle with a pleasant buzz.

“You’re  _perfect_,” he crooned, stroking one of Starscream’s facial vents with his thumb-digit. The seeker shuddered, leaning into the touch. “Will you let me take care of you?” Starscream nodded fervently.

“ _Please_, ” he whined. Steve gave his facial vents one last affectionate rub before moving his servo to Starscream’s warming interface panel. He tapped it.

“Open,” he commanded softly.

Starscream didn’t need to be told twice. 

...

Unfortunately, Starscream had to leave after a couple hours in order to get to his cell before curfew. Much as he would have liked to stay the night, he didn’t want to get in trouble after accruing so much favor from the guards.

He ambled awkwardly down the hallway with a dopey grin, purple paint transfers, and a pleasant ache between his legs.

_Thank you, Shockwave, _ he thought, appreciating the fact that the drones hadn’t been constructed with sub-par interfacing equipment. 

It had been a good cycle- he had learned many things. The first of which was that his minions could and _would_ kill for him, the second being that Steve had an absolutely _filthy_ mind and knew how to put it to good use. 

He hummed quietly as he entered his cell, then felt his grin stretch wider as he did a little happy dance and punched the air. 

“So  _ that’s  _ what you’ve been up to,” said a greyed-out cadaver in a pink blanket that looked suspiciously like Knockout. 

Starscream shrieked, completely losing his footing and landing on his aft. He scrambled backwards until he hit the wall. 

“_Begone,_ foul creature!” He cried, grabbing the nearest object- a nasty painting of Megatron with his head shoved up Optimus Prime’s exhaust pipe- and chucked it across the room. 

It hit the reanimated corpse in the face and bounced off of it harmlessly. The creature blinked, looking unimpressed.

“Thanks, Screamer,” it-  _ he?_\- said flatly. Starscream narrowed his optics, getting a better look at his intruder and noting that his biolights and optics appeared to be perfectly healthy- and familiar.

“...  _Knockout?_” He squeaked, looking over the other’s poorly-concealed frame. The medic’s face crumpled.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, vocalizer fritzing. He looked like he was going to cry. 

Starscream stood, in-vented, pressed his servos together, and pointed them at his uninvited guest.

“Okay, one- What _happened_ to you? Two-  What are you doing in _my_ cell?!” 

Knockout took a seat-  _on Starscream’s berth-_ and curled up in a sideways fetal position. 

“Took a shift in Block E. Decontamination strips your paint. It’s been a _bad_ day,” he whimpered.

Huh. So  _ that’s  _ where Steve had gotten the rust. Well, now Starscream owed Knockout  at least  two favors. The thought didn’t come as bitterly as he would have expected. He sighed.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asked tiredly. Knockout looked at him like a kicked newspark.

“You’ve got paint,” he said, sounding like alittle waif begging for a cube. “Can you please fix it?” 

Starscream opened his mouth to protest that the kind of paint he had wasn’t _meant_ to be used on someone’s frame, except for maybe detailing- but the poor medic looked so  _ sad_, and he was part of the reason why (however unwittingly). It was weird, seeing the usually flamboyant and energetic mech looking so depressed.

_ Dammit. _

“Let me see what I have,” He said instead, grabbing a stool and pulling his massive paint bin in front of it. He sat, digging through the tubes and pulling out several shades of red. 

“Thank you,” Knockout said quietly, having appropriated Starscream’s blanket as well and created a cocoon. Starscream kicked the bin to the side and lined his tubes up on the nightstand. He looked at them, and then at Knockout, and realized that there was not enough of any single shade for the job. 

“Great,” he muttered, grabbing his largest paintbrush. He removed the nightstand’s drawer and dumped its contents all over the floor. Knockout uncurled a bit, looking confused.

“What-” He began, but Starscream interrupted him by placing the drawer in his lap and squeezing all of his orange-red paint into it. He tossed the empty tube aside and repeated the process with maroon. He continued to do this until all the shades of red he possessed were emptied inside, and then started stirring it furiously with his paintbrush. 

It was still probably not enough, but it would have to do. 

Knockout hadn’t moved.

“I need you to  _ stand up__,_” Starscream said, gesturing with the paintbrush. Knockout rose reluctantly, shuffling away from the berth with his blanket still wrapped snugly around his pointy shoulders. 

Starscream tugged at it, looking at the medic pointedly. It was tentatively released, and he tossed it onto the growing pile of junk on the floor.

“_I hate this,_” Knockout muttered, folding his arms over his chassis self-consciously. Starscream patted his forearmawkwardly.

“There... There?” He tried. Knockout’s posture didn’t change.

“It’s the thought that counts,” he said. Starscream rolled his optics and got to work, pulling one of the medic’s forearms away from the rest of his frame.

He painted in awkward silence, moving to Knockout’s other arm, then his upper torso. 

When he got to his helm crests, standing on the tips of his pedes to properly view the top of Knockout’s helm, the medic started giggling. Starscream pulled back, raising an optical ridge. 

“Sorry,” Knockout snickered, “it just _tickles!_” The atmosphere seemed to lighten a bit, for which Starscream was grateful. He smiled faintly, trying not to agitate the sensitive points much further. 

They continued, and just as Starscream had finished with the pelvic armor, they ran out of red paint. They both stared at the empty drawer in a tense silence. 

“There’s not enough for your pedes,” Starscream said, frowning thoughtfully. “Is there any other color you want to paint them?” 

Knockout just shrugged despondently, lighter mood completely shattered. 

“I’ll just use black, then,” Starscream chirped, trying to cheer him up. It wasn’t working. “That goes with everything!”

It did not, in fact, go with everything when it didn’t appear anywhere else in Knockout’s color scheme. The unfortunate medic looked distraught as he stared at his pedes. 

“... It’s better than nothing?” Starscream tried, wearing a false smile. He was not accustomed to playing the optimist. Knockout just kept staring.

“_I hate it,_” he whispered. Starscream scowled, throwing his arms into the air. 

“I’m doing my best!” He snapped. “If you insist on pouting, though- let me get your optical ridges.” 

Once he had finished with those, Starscream moved on to white forKnockout’s face and pointy audials. 

Finally, once it was all finished, Starscream sat back and surveyed his work.

It was... _Satisfactory._ Not great, but not hideous. Knockout seemed to share the sentiment, based on his critical but not horrified appraisal of his frame as he inspected it. 

“It’ll do,” Knockout finally said, glowering at his pedes disdainfully. He looked up. “... Thank you.” Starscream blinked in surprise.

“Of course,” he said. “I owed you.” Knockout froze, then opened his mouth to say something-

The door to Starscream’s cell abruptly slammed shut, locking them both in for the night. The lights overhead powered down, and their optics and biolights glowed faintly. 

Ah, curfew. He had sort of forgotten about that.

Starscream carefully tip-toed towards his berth, trying to avoid stepping on any of the junk scattered on the floor. 

“Oh my god,” Knockout said, staring at Starscream’s thighs. 

“What?” The seeker bristled, looking down to find whatever seemed so captivating. He froze, suddenly wanting very much to crawl into a hole and die.

Between his legs, surrounding his interface panel, were faintly glowing blue streaks and smears that could only indicate _one thing_ _- _

“You’re a  _ bottom?!_” Knockout exclaimed. 

Starscream didn’t know how to respond to that embarrassingly accurate assessment of his interfacing habits.

“I hate it when you say something I’ve never heard before, and I automatically understand what you mean,” he croaked instead. “I fragging  _hate_ it. ” 

Knockout looked like he was having a crisis.

“Steve’s a  _ top__,_” he murmured to himself. “_Steve’s a fragging top!_” 

It was going to be a _long_ night .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knockout didn’t do anything to deserve this.
> 
> I don’t know if I like this chapter as much, but the plot must continue! Don’t forget to leave feedback if you liked it! Thanks for reading!


	18. The Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys stay up late and talk about their feelings. That’s it, that’s the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Not a real long one, folks, but it’s what I’ve got. 
> 
> Credit to Transformatron for ‘fee-fees.’ I couldn’t get over that.
> 
> Thanks so much for the continued support, it always makes me smile! :)

Starscream scratched at the blue streaks between his thighs as surreptitiously as he could, given that he was literally a light source. Knockout was still standing there, mouth hanging open like he’d been told that his creator was an insecticon. Starscream bristled under the attention.

“_What?_” He snapped, pausing in his scraping. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, anyhow.” Knockout’s mouth snapped shut.

“Sorry,” He said, “I’m just reinterpreting your entire personality in light of this new information.” It was Starscream’s turn to gawk.

“What, based on my  _interfacing preferences?_ Who are you, my _therapist?!_” Knockout tapped his chin thoughtfully and gave Starscream a knowing look.

“He called you ‘pretty,’ didn’t he,” he said matter-of-factly. Starscream spluttered.

“Ex_cuse_ me , I’ll have you know that- I mean,  _ yes__-_ but that was towards the  _end_ of it- and that’s  _ personal information__,_ thank you very much, but if you  _ must  _ know, he called me ‘perfect,’ which I thought very sexy of him.” he finished haughtily. Knockout gaped.

“Oh Primus, I was  _right. _You’ve got low self-esteem!” Starscream squawked indignantly, kicking an empty paint tube at him.

“_Go away!_” He screeched. Knockout snickered.

“No need to be so  _ hostile__,_ Starscream!” He crowed. “We’re all friends here! You can be open about your  _ fee-fees._” 

Starscream made the most _repulsed_ expression, doing a full-frame shudder.

“ _ Ew! _ ” He shouted, whirling around and stomping to his berth. “It’s been _five minutes,_ and I’m already going insane.” He plopped his aft on it and grabbed the bunched-up blanket from the corner. Knockout laughed harder.

“You are the only person I’ve ever met who can  _ sit  _ angrily,” he said. Starscream ignored him.

“How did you even know that it was  _Steve, _anyway?” He asked. Knockout gave him a flat look.

“_‘__How did you even know that it was Steve?’_” He mocked with a sneer, then pointed at the easel in the corner that held that damning painting. “I don’t know, don’t you figure _that's_ pretty telling?” Starscream’s optics brightened in embarrassment. 

“I... Forgot about that,” he muttered. Knockout shook his helm incredulously.

“You’re a mess,” he said. Starscream scowled at him.

“_That’s it- _you’re recharging on the  _ floor__,_” he snapped, turning around and ruffling his wings angrily. 

“ _ Hey, _ ” Knockout whined, “is that any way to treat a guest?” 

Starscream said nothing, flopping on his front and spreading his wings until they covered the other half of the berth. 

“ _ Goodnight _ _,_” he grouched. 

Silence.

Knockout tip-toed over and poked the thruster on Starscream’s back.

“Hey,” he whispered. 

Starscream swatted his arm with a wing, which hurt him more than it would have hurt his target. He refused to vocalize how much it stung. 

Knockout poked him again, this time in the back of the helm.

“ _ What?! _ ” Starscream snapped, whipping around to face Knockout. The medic twiddled his thumb-digits, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Can I  _please_ share the berth?” He whispered. “I promise I’ll be good.” Starscream scowled at him. 

“No.”

“I’ll keep bugging you if you don’t let me,” Knockout added, poking Starscream in the middle of his face. The seeker swatted his servo away.

“_Fine_, but only because I still owe you one more favor,” he grouched. “_And  _ you have to lay on the edge.” Knockout gave him an self-satisfied smile.

“Thank you!” He chirped, laying on his front and looking at the opposite side of the cell. Starscream laid back down, pointing his face towards the wall. 

They stayed like that for several tense, awkward moments. 

The berth was too narrow. Starscream was squished up against the wall, and one of Knockout’s arms dangled off the side. 

Surprisingly, it was Starscream who started to drift off first, accustomed to having to rest whilst in various states of mortal terror and/or discomfort. Knockout, sensing the lull in his field, nudged him with an elbow. Starscream startled.

“Ack-  _ hey!_” He hissed, giving Knockout a sharp kick. 

“I’m bored,” The medic whined. Starscream snapped, sitting up abruptly.

“Shut _up!_” He shrieked. “You come into my cell, you use up all my paint, you  _ take half my berth-_” Knockout didn’t move, and Starscream poked one of his wheels agitatedly. “_What_ is your  _ problem?!_” 

Silence again.

“... I’m really lonely,” Knockout said quietly, still faced away from his conversational partner. Starscream was flummoxed.

“What do you  mean,  _‘lonely?!’_ What about that- um...” he snapped his digits, trying to recall the term, “-That  _ sucrose progenitor! _Yes, what about him?” He asked. Knockout shrugged despondently, still not moving.

“It’s not the same. It’s just fragging,” he said. “I thought maybe killing the spider would help, but nothing really changed. Everything still feels kind of... Hollow,” he confessed. Starscream gave him a flat stare.

“And you thought _I  _ was the best person to turn to,” He deadpanned. Knockout curled up defensively.

“Well, we teamed up to kill Megatron that one time, remember?” He said. “That was fun, right?” Starscream continued staring at him, expression reluctantly softening. 

“You really don’t have anybody else, do you?” He asked quietly. Knockout didn’t say anything. Starscream sighed, pulling his knees to his chest. He scrubbed at his face. “_Fine__,_ I’ll keep you company until you  _come to your senses._ What do you want to talk about?” 

Knockout turned his face to look at Starscream thoughtfully. 

“Why the Decepticons?” He asked. 

“ _ Really? _ ” Starscream said, unamused. “The heavy topics?” Knockout frowned.

“I’ll share, too, if you want,” he said quietly. 

_ I’m becoming too lenient for my own good,  _ Starscream thought.

“Very well, then,” he sighed, unfurling into a criss-cross applesauce position. “I was angry. I wanted to kill a few people, so I joined a revolution.” Knockout nodded.

“But, _why?_” He asked. Starscream scowled.

“It doesn’t matter, because everyone involved is _dead._ Except for myself, of course. I made sure of it. In fact,” he peeked over the edge of the berth, searching for something, “I think I still have that digit tip I kept as a souvenir from Senator... Oh dear, I can’t quite recall his name. Anyway, it’s probably on the floor, somewhere- I’ll show you tomorrow.” 

“They let you keep a  _ dead senator’s body part?!_” Knockout asked incredulously. Starscream smirked.

“I told them it was an ‘old friend’s.’ I really taught  _that_ afthead to point digits in my face!” He chuckled proudly. Knockout picked at the berth.

“It’s so easy to forget that you can kill people,” he said, “but it’s not like I have much room to talk.” Starscream hummed, not arguing with that.

“Yes, well- that was also the first time I ever killed anyone, contrary to what the  _buffoons_ who ran my farce of a trial would have you believe- the _first one,_ that is,” he muttered. “It was... A memento. Proof that  I’d won, for once. Also, I’ll admit that the etched designs were aesthetically pleasing.” Knockout stifled a laugh with his servo.

“That’s so fragged up,” he giggled. “What even  _ is  _ your life?” Starscream cocked an optical ridge. 

“A series of pitfalls marked by the occasional significant victory,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t even know whose fault that is anymore. I went from studying the various properties of energon for research to assassinating the senate in a vorn and a half. These things just...  _Sneak up_ on you.” Knockout hummed in agreement. 

“I get that. Primus, I was a  _med-student_ once- it feels like forever ago! Honestly, it’s a surprise I didn’t get whiplash. I didn’t even realize how far _off-center_ my idea of ‘normal’ was until I got to Earth and remembered that other places still have functioning societies intact.” Starscream snorted.

“I wouldn’t call anything on Earth a ‘functioning society,’” he sneered. “More like a ‘noisy rabble with some structures here and there.’” Knockout frowned.

“I don’t know- it was kind of eerie sometimes, how similar we could be. They’re like people, but yucky and with some  _sexy_ vehicles.” Starscream gave him a strange look. “... From a purely artistic standpoint, of course, not- not  _ literally__,_ that would be  _ weird!_” He amended, chuckling nervously. 

Starscream wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. After Weird Brenda, he’d discovered that it was best not to ask.

“Fascinating,” he said drily. “Are you ready to recharge, now?” 

“... Hold on,” said Knockout, “I’ve got one more question.” Starscream rolled his optics.

“Whatever, go bolts. Ask away.” Knockout scrunched up his face, as if searching for a proper way to word his query.

“How do you... _Deal_ with it? How do you move on?” He asked, tracing patterns on the berth. 

“You’re going to have to elaborate,” Starscream said. Knockout waved his servo around in the air, gesturing at the ceiling. 

“You know,  _ life__._ You get your aft handed to you all the time, you’ve- you’ve  _ lost people._” Starscream flinched at that. “How do you cope with all that and keep going?” Knockout asked. 

Starscream _wanted_ to hiss and spit and tell the medic to stop mocking him, but there was a vulnerability and desperation there that he understood a little too well. He decided to continue to be honest.

“Frankly, I’m pretty sure that what I do can’t be considered ‘coping’ by even the most generous definitions of the term,” he said. “I just kind of... Put it away, and never think about it again. Or I get angry. Or both. I don’t know how to help you with that,” he said bluntly.

Knockout’s face fell, and Starscream quickly scrambled for something more positive to tell him. 

“What I  _ do  _ know is that there will always be opportunities to improve your situation, if you know where to look. Find something worth working for.” He smiled faintly. “Go assassinate your own ‘senate.’” 

Knockout smiled back.

It was with that morbid yet strangely comforting advice that the medic  _ finally  _ fell into recharge, with Starscream close behind him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have y’all ever been at a sleepover where you end up having weirdly deep, heartfelt conversations with the other person? This is basically the same idea, but with socially constipated alien war criminals.
> 
> Also-
> 
> Knockout: holy fuck Starscream life sucks how do you cope???  
Starscream: bold of you to assume I cope


	19. Starscream Being Starscream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is a dysfunctional little shit, and he’s still got a ways to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback, y’all! It always makes my day! :)

Knockout came back online with his legs hanging off the berth. He lazily noted that the cell was still locked, but it was lit dimly through the thin strip of a window that sat close to the ceiling. He was clutching something sharp, and belatedly realized that he had been snuggling with Starscream’s arm. 

He promptly ejected himself from the berth with a shout, almost tripping over a shriveled up paint tube as he stumbled back. 

Starscream startled awake, scrambling into a sitting position. He scrubbed tiredly at his optics, growling.

“Soundwave, _why wasn’t I notified-_ oh.” He remembered where he was, blinking at Knockout. “Why did you _do_ that?!” He squawked. 

“I fell off the berth,” Knockout lied, “sorry.” Starscream sighed, getting out of berth.

“I suppose that wasn’t entirely your fault, then,” he grumbled. 

The seeker began scanning the floor for something, toeing various pieces of junk aside to see what was underneath them. Finally, he spotted whatever it was he was looking for by the foot of his nightstand, crouching to delicately pick it up. 

“Hello,” He said to it, grinning.

“Um,” said Knockout, fidgeting nervously as Starscream held his find up to the light. “So you really weren’t kidding about that severed digit, huh?” Starscream smirked, tracing it with a claw.

“I was not,” he purred. “Behold- the last intact remains of Senator What’s-his-wheels, whose last mistake was shoving _this_ in my face and spewing some drivel about flight-frames. I wasn’t listening, of course- too busy keeping myself from biting his servo off. It was funny to watch him cry after I _confiscated_ it, though.” Knockout nodded politely, all his programming screaming at him to run.

“Uh-huh,” he said, giving a false smile, “He sure had it coming.” Starscream turned to face the medic, using his height advantage to loom over him.

“It really is a shame,” Starscream murmured, looking Knockout dead in the optics, “when people can’t _keep things to themselves._” 

He glided the tip of the digit over the medic’s throat cabling, stopping over his vocalizer. Knockout stilled, hardly daring to vent. 

“Yep,” He squeaked. “It’s quite rude.” Starscream didn’t move, still staring him down.

“Isn’t it? If you don’t behave yourself with _this_,” he tapped the digit gently on Knockout’s throat, “I might have to _confiscate it._”

Knockout had to dismiss the notification on his HUD asking to online his defense protocols. Starscream slowly removed the severed digit.

“Do we have an _understanding_, Doctor?” He asked. Knockout nodded desperately, trying not to purge. Starscream smiled pleasantly, placing the digit carefully on his nightstand. “Good,” he purred. 

The door to the cell swooshed open, and the lights flicked on. Knockout almost slumped in relief, ready to get away. Starscream’s entire demeanor changed.

“Well,” He chirped, “I’m glad that’s settled, then! Next time you need my assistance, though- please _ask_ first. That was _not_ a pleasant fright you gave me last night.” Knockout nodded mutely, then turned around and got the hell out of dodge.

He didn’t notice Starscream relax into a slouch, jaw clenched and optics frightened.

...

“Hello, Starscream,” said the therapist. “How have you been?” 

Starscream gently placed the Steve-painting on the coffee table. 

“I have come to terms with my disgusting emotions and fragged Steve,” he announced proudly. “Also, I have made some observations that suggest that the practice of ‘basic decency’ _does_, in fact, exist.”

The therapist blinked.

“Cool,” he said, and leaned over to examine the painting. “Wow, this is the most detailed one you’ve brought me yet. It’s very good.” Starscream preened.

“I _know_,” he drawled, “I’m just so  _talented!_ You always know what to say.” The therapist leaned back, getting to business.

“So, you seem to be in a good mood,” he said. Starscream scoffed.

“_Hardly_. Last night, Knockout got himself locked in my cell and became privy to some rather... _Personal_ information. I had to threaten him into secrecy, I _hate_ it when that happens!” He picked at his claws, frowning. “Too many _unanticipated variables_ that could come into play.” 

The therapist gave the barest sigh. _Baby steps,_ he thought.

“I see!” He chirped instead. “If you don’t mind sharing, what did you tell him?” Starscream eyed him suspiciously.

“If _you_ know, I’ll have to worry about _two_ people running amok with my secrets!” He snapped. The therapist smiled calmly, internally screaming.

“Starscream,” he said, “we’ve been over this. It is literally _illegal_ for me to do that. If you don’t want to share, that’s fine- but don’t for one klik assume that I’m going to use the information you disclose against you.” Starscream didn’t seem convinced.

“Isn’t it also ‘_literally illegal_’ to disobey any order from the Prime?” He asked, optics flashing. The therapist frowned.

“Actually, the Prime legally cannot make an order that violates anyone’s civil rights,” he corrected. Starscream wasn’t impressed.

“What a _charming_ little law,” he sneered. “Splendid way to fool the naive into believing there aren’t _other_ methods of coercion.” 

“Starscream,” The therapist said very slowly, lacing his digits together, “the Prime isn’t interested in your personal information. Everything he actually wants to know about you is on public record.” 

Starscream smirked, something the therapist was finding to be a source of exasperation rather than dread.

“Bold assumption,” he purred.

...

Starscream leaned on the wall just outside the dispensary, glaring at his pedes. He could hear his minions chattering inside, and he fought the urge to join them.

He wasn’t _afraid_ of anything, per se- he just wasn’t hungry yet. His lack of company was a personal preference, and had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he wasn’t sure how to behave around Steve after fragging him. 

No, he had simply been taking a break. For twenty minutes. While his fuel levels sank further than he was comfortable with. It was fine. Really.

“Hi, Starscream,” chirped Steve, appearing from the doorway.

“_Frag!_” Starscream stumbled away from the wall, cursing. “Don’t _do_ that!” Steve flashed his visor apologetically. 

“Sorry,” he said. “We were just wondering where you were at. Wanna come join us?”

Starscream, not quite knowing how to interact with Steve anymore, nodded mutely. The vehicon’s visor dimmed, and he grabbed Starscream’s servo to lead him to the rest of the Hippie Club, lacing their digits together. Their fields mingled, Steve’s full of warmth and affection.

_ Nope. _

Starscream snatched his servo back, wings falling defensively. Steve stiffened, and Starscream couldn’t tell if he was offended or hurt.

“I-” he began, but snapped his mouth back shut. He scurried past Steve, deliberately looking away from him, and joined the Swarm. 

“Wait- _Starscream!_” Steve called, following after him. 

  
Starscream hurriedly filled a cube and sped past him to the additives, definitely _not_ ignoring him. Steve could have meant _any_ Starscream, how was he to know if it was _him_ in specific?

Starscream went straight for the magnesium, shakily scooping several more heaps than usual into his cube. He heard footsteps approaching and grabbed a stirring stick, mixing the concoction so violently that fuel sloshed over the sides. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly once he reached him, “What’s wrong?” 

Starscream’s professor made the equivalent of a dial-up internet noise, and he started chugging his cube to avoid answering. Steve huffed exasperatedly. 

“_Starscream_-” he tried, but aforementioned seeker held up a digit while he finished off the last dregs of the disgustingly sweet magnesium-slurry. He suppressed a shudder as the grit that had collected in the bottom hit his glossa, pulling away and tossing the cube in the waste receptacle. Steve waited for his answer.

“Well,” Starscream said, “I’m done! Goodbye, now.” With that, he sprinted away.

“You can’t keep running from this!” Steve shouted, chasing after him. 

“_Watch me!_” Starscream called back.

Unfortunately, the seeker really was not built for running. Steve caught up to him a corridor away from their cell block, almost stepping on his heels a few times.

“No running,” called a guard as they passed. 

They both ground to a halt, and Steve grabbed Starscream’s shoulder. His servo was shrugged off, but the seeker didn’t move from his spot.

“Hey,” Steve said, cooling fans spinning to keep up with his exertion. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line. Can we _please_ talk about this?” Starscream didn’t look at him, thinking.

Finally, he said, “My cell,” and paused. 

After a moment of deliberation, he hesitantly held out his smallest digit. Steve grabbed it obediently, and Starscream tugged him away toward the block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, don’t forget to leave comments and kudos if you liked it! :) 
> 
> Coming up next: Starscream gives some exposition.


	20. Starscream Has Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for some exposition!
> 
> Warning: This chapter gets a little raunchy, and there’s some heavily implied sexual activity with a dead person’s body part at the end. It makes sense in context?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y’all! Thanks so much for commenting, I really appreciate you taking the time to do that! 
> 
> Heed the warning- my sense of humor is morbid.

Starscream and Steve were perched on the berth, facing one another.

Starscream stared at Steve.

Steve stared at Starscream.

It was completely silent. Steve reset his vocalizer.

“So, um...” He twiddled his thumb-digits. “Are we going to talk?” Starscream blinked, as if snapped out of a reverie. 

He pounced on Steve, straddling him and pinning his wrists to the berth.

“Nope,” he purred, and tapped on Steve’s faceplate. The vehicon shook his helm, visor flashing sternly.

“Nuh-Uh. No fragging until we get this sorted out,” he said. Starscream growled in frustration, flopping dramatically into his back.

“You insidious little _fiend,_” he spat. “Very well, then. Proceed with this _talking__._” Steve nodded.

“Okay- boundaries. Why don’t we start there?” He said. “I mean, you seem to want to make this a _thing,_ so.”   


Starscream propped himself up on his elbows. 

“What do you mean by that?” He asked. If Steve had a mouth, he would have gaped. He settled for dropping his helm in his servos. 

“You know, a _thing?_ Like, a relationship?” Starscream stared at him blankly. He sighed. “A _romantic_ relationship?” The seeker sat back up, looking flummoxed.

“That’s _important?_ We can’t just do whatever we want?” He asked incredulously. Steve was losing vorns off his lifespan.

“_Apparently so,_ since you freaked out on me,” he insisted. “We need some ground rules so it doesn’t happen again!” 

Starscream frowned thoughtfully, wings sinking to rest at his back. 

“You have to ask permission to touch me unless I touch you first,” he decided. “Also, no public displays of affection.” 

Well, that seemed reasonable enough.

“Okay,” the vehicon said, nodding. “Um. I’m going to make one, too: please warn me before you jump me? You’ve scared the living daylights out of me _twice_ now. Also, you’re heavier than you look, and my legs are made of cheap parts.” Starscream raised his optical ridges.

“Hm. I didn’t think of that...” he muttered, then clapped his servos together. “Well, then! That’s all settled- now, ‘face me!” Steve crossed his arms, field radiating disapproval.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked. Starscream pouted.

“ _ Now? _ ” He snapped. Steve didn’t move. 

“That’s not very polite,” he chastised. “Try again.” Starscream stuck out his chin impudently.

“Make me,” he said. 

“Is that permission?” Steve asked. Starscream sneered.

“Only if you can move those cheap pieces of scrap you generously refer to as _legs_ and- _mmph!_”

Steve tackled him, seizing his mouth with his intake and running his servos over the cabling on Starscream’s sides. The seeker relaxed, opening his panels and letting Steve push him flat on his back. The vehicon pulled away, and noticed his partner wearing a delighted grin.

“You _brat,_” he chuckled breathlessly, drinking in the way Starscream was splayed out beneath him, with his wings fanned out and framing his body. He was  gorgeous, with his delicate-looking yet powerful frame, and that plush, positively  _dripping-_

“Hey guys, have you-  _ oh, Primus, I’m so sorry! _ ” Gerald shouted from the doorway, recoiling. Starscream’s panels abruptly snapped back into place, and he shoved Steve off of him, scrambling off the berth.

“Ger-_ald!_” He screeched, grabbing an empty paint tube and hurling it in the stunned vehicon’s direction. “Out! Get  _ out!_” He pointed to the corridor outside, seething.

The projectile hit Gerald in the visor, breaking his shock and sending him scrambling away with hurried apologies. Starscream groaned.

“_Fantastic,_ that _idiot_ ruined the mood!” He ranted, plopping back down onto the berth with a scowl. “Interface is cancelled forever now, all thanks to _Gerald the peeping tom._” Steve sighed dejectedly, snapping his intake covers shut. 

“Can we at least cuddle?” He asked. Starscream eyed him warily. 

“... You may sit very close to me,” he decided. Steve did so, leaving a good few inches of space between them.   


Starscream scoffed and sidled up next to him, hesitantly resting his helm on Steve’s shoulder. The vehicon tentatively laid a servo on his back, patting it sympathetically.

“I’m sorry that Gerald interrupted,” he said. Starscream decided to put the rest of his weight on Steve, pushing his body into a reclining position. The angle caused the seeker’s helm to slide down until it was in the vehicon’s lap. He continued pouting as if nothing had happened, wings flicking irritably.

“See?” Starscream said, snuggling closer. “Sitting is fine.” Steve did not respond, preoccupied with petting the seeker’s helm affectionately.

...

“Hello, Knockout,” said Starscream the next morning at the dispensary. The medic eyed him warily. 

“What,” He said flatly. Starscream glanced at him curiously, wings rising the slightest bit. 

“Just a greeting,” he replied. “Why the face?” Knockout looked at him in a manner reminiscent of a frustrated customer service representative.

“Oh, I have _no idea._ Why don’t you tell me?” He snapped. Starscream tapped his chin thoughtfully, looking the medic up and down.

“I see you got a proper paint job. Do you find it unsatisfactory?” He tried. Knockout squinted at him.

“_Really?_” He asked. “You can’t think of  _anything_ that happened the past few cycles that would give me a reason to be upset with you?” Starscream narrowed his optics right back at him.

“Is this about the black pedes? Because I did my best, with-” Knockout interrupted him by slapping a servo over his face with an audible _clang. _ Starscream blinked, still clueless, and Knockout grabbed his forearm and dragged him to a corner.

“_Are you playing dumb with me?!_” He said through clenched denta, pointing accusingly at the seeker. “This is about the fact that you jabbed my vocalizer with a dead mech’s digit and threatened to _tear it out_ if I told anyone you were fragging Steve!” 

It was Starscream’s turn to squint disbelievingly. 

“Wait, you think this is about  _interface?!_” He hissed, holding up a servo. “Nevermind- of _course_ it is. It’s always _fragging_ with you.” Knockout slapped it away, fuming.

“Well then, _what was it?!_ What did you tell me that was so horrible that you felt the need to threaten to _maim_ me?” He whisper-shrieked. Starscream rolled his optics.

“Oh, _please-_ it’s not as if I’ll do anything if you keep your mouth shut. That’s why it’s called an  understanding! You uphold your end, I’ll uphold mine- end of story.” Knockout glared at him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. Starscream bristled.

“Are you _joking? _I’m not going to _incriminate_ myself further-” He froze. Knockout gaped. 

“_Incriminate?!_ What did you _do?_” He hissed. 

They were quiet for a long moment, staring at each other.

“My cell,” Starscream finally snapped, “but if you tell _anyone,_ the threat still holds.” Knockout nodded dumbly, trailing after the twitchy seeker and into the proverbial lions’ den. 

...

Starscream led Knockout to the stool in the center of his cell.

“Sit,” he ordered. The medic obeyed. “I didn’t want to share, but I’d rather you hear the truth than come to some ridiculous conclusion. What you hear is not to _ever_ leave this room- do I make myself clear?” Knockout nodded hesitantly.

“Do I _want_ to know?” He asked. Starscream went to the entrance, looked around to ensure that they were alone, and came back.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, taking a seat on the berth, “you’re going to hear it either way.”

“Lucky me,” Knockout grumbled. Starscream ignored him.

“I’ll preface this by making sure you understand that I was framed. I never killed anyone until  _after_ I was broken out of prison.” Knockout blinked rapidly.

“That is the _opposite_ of an explanation,” he said drily, “But I shouldn’t be surprised. Why is it always something _weird_ with you? Have you ever had a _normal_ problem in your life?!”   


Starscream threw the severed digit at him, and Knockout recoiled so violently that he almost fell off the stool. 

“Shut up,” Starscream snapped, “this is  _my_ time to talk.” 

Knockout swallowed his instinctive rebuke of _‘_ _When isn’t it?’ _

“So,” Starscream began, primly crossing his legs, “as you are aware, I received secondary education. I was one of the few aerials to attend the Iaconian Academy of Sciences. And, as that a government-run institution, I was subject to the ire of the cabal of privileged exhaust-huffers known as the Senate. They didn’t like that I defied their out-dated caste system, because that was the _only_ reason they had to feel special and important- even as they drove our entire society into the dirt with their _embarrassingly_ apparent _ineptitude_.”   


Knockout nodded.

“That does sound like something they’d do,” he said. Starscream nodded back. 

“Yes, well. A friend of mine had an accident while we were on a research mission, and I was forced to return for help without him. When I got back, however, they proceeded to hold a ridiculous little farce of a trial accusing me of _murder__._ It was practically  _ transparent__._” He spat, gripping the edge of the berth. His expression went melancholy.

“That honestly explains a lot,” said Knockout. Starscream ignored him, staring at his pedes.

“They sentenced us both to _death-_ him in the ice, and me in front of a firing squad,” he continued quietly. “Just because we were _inconvenient_ to them.” 

“But you didn’t die,” Knockout oh-so-helpfully pointed out. Starscream shook his head.

“You’re right. I didn’t. Soundwave was an inmate, too- once Megatron came for him, he pointed me out. And so once he broke us out, I swore loyalty, and the rest was history. I burned that damn academy to the ground, I took out the senate, and then I destroyed all the public records I could find. That way, even if I failed again, there would be nobody and nothing left to perpetuate their lies. And it  _worked._” He looked Knockout dead in the optics. “I’m not going to let your ruin it all with your big mouth. It has to be _worth it._”

Knockout came to two realizations: the first of which was that Starscream was _afraid__._ The second was that he hadn’t seen him in this state ever since he created the Hippie Club.

Revealing a pre-war arrest record to the wrong people could potentially ruin the little haven Starscream had built for himself in prison, and the Autobots wouldn’t believe a disgraced war criminal over their cherished historical figures. Much as he wanted to smack the former air commander sometimes, Knockout couldn’t devastate him like that.

“I didn’t hear a word,” he promised. 

Starscream didn’t move, still gripping the berth. Knockout frowned. 

“You know, I have an idea of how to add insult to injury for this guy,” he said, picking the digit up off the ground. Starscream peered at him curiously. “Are you interested?” 

He received a small nod.

...

“Good morning, Weird Brenda,” Knockout purred, taking a seat next to her in the common room. Starscream stood behind him, grinning like an idiot. She glanced warily between the two of them.

“... Hello?” She asked hesitantly. Knockout leaned casually on the table.

“I was just wondering if you were planning anything particularly _obscene_ tonight- out of curiosity, of course,” he said. Weird Brenda tilted her helm.

“Sorry, I’m doing John this evening.” She shrugged. “Maybe next week?” Starscream looked like he’d eaten a lemon. Knockout chuckled, shaking his helm. 

“You misunderstand me- you see, Starscream and I are in possession of something you might be interested in,” he said, optics twinkling. Weird Brenda’s visor brightened.

“I’m listening.” Knockout smirked. Behind him, Starscream stifled a giggle.

“Poor Starscream here ran afoul of some particularly _vile_ people awhile back, and acquired what is now the last trace of their legacy. How would you feel about _desecrating_ it?” 

Starscream burst into full-on laughter, doubling over and using the table for support. Weird Brenda watched him suspiciously.

“Depends,” She said loftily. “Is this a joke?” 

“Not on you,” Knockout replied mischievously. “Think of yourself as a _vessel_ for cosmic punishment.” Starscream was practically having a fit. Weird Brenda’s visor gleamed. 

“Alright, I’m interested. What do you want me to ruin?” Knockout held up the severed digit, and she took it from him. “Kinky,” She drawled. “I’m in.”

“What- What are you going to _do_ with it?” Starscream managed to gasp as his laughter petered out.

“I think it’ll involve glue, feathers, and Superman,” Weird Brenda said. The seeker’s laughter began anew.

“That’s _terrible,_” He wheezed, “and brilliant! You should have been an interrogator!” The vehicon shrugged.

“I’m always down for a little karmic desecration,” She said. “Do you want pictures?” Starscream stopped laughing and grimaced.

“Oh, absolutely _not._” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Weird Brenda. Never change. Thanks for reading, don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos if you liked it!!!! :)


	21. Starscream Shoots Himself In The Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream learns how to function like person. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all, thanks so much for your continued support!!! Word of warning: the more you encourage me, the weirder this is going to get.
> 
> Here’s another one, apologies for the lateness of it (relative to my other updates, that is.)

“Hello, Starscream,” said the therapist cheerfully. “How have you been?” Starscream perched daintily on the edge of the couch, screwing up his face thoughtfully.

“Not horrible,” he decided. “I have learned two things.” The therapist leaned forward.

“Oh?” Starscream nodded.

“Yes. First: Knockout has the capacity to not be annoying. Second- Doctor, did you know that threatening people is  _rude?_ I mean, even when you’re justified!”

The therapist stared at him blankly for a moment, and then scrubbed at his optics.

“Starscream,” he said tiredly, “you are  way too smart to be figuring that out this late.” The seeker scowled defensively.

“But  Megatron  does it all the time, and everyone respects  _him!_” He whined. 

“_Megatron _ isn’t setting a good example of the average person. Most of the inmates here see him as an emancipator who lets them be horrible and violent. You don’t  want to be the kind of person they look up to,” the therapist replied. Starscream pouted.

“Well,  _excuse me,_” he snapped, crossing his arms. The therapist sighed.

“Regardless- I’m still proud of you for figuring that out,” he said. Starscream’s sour expression softened a bit. 

“Well- erm. If- If you ever need to  get rid  of anybody and you don’t want people to know it was you, just let me know,” he grumbled. The therapist smiled calmly.

“Thank you,” he said, “I appreciate the sentiment.” Internally, he was screaming.

_ Baby steps. _

...

As it turned out, Starscream was a fairly tactile person under the right circumstances. This is how Steve found himself with an armful of snuggly seeker as he and Starscream discussed the details of their murder plot on his berth. 

“We could use a syringe,” the vehicon suggested, idly running his digits down Starscream’s back thruster. The seeker propped his jaw up on Steve’s shoulder, humming thoughtfully.

“No,” he decided, “too conspicuous. I could let him get at me and ‘accidentally’ get it in his vents somehow?” Steve tightened his arms around Starscream protectively, field flaring in horror and disgust.

“He’s not getting anywhere  _near_ you,” he growled. “I will literally jam the Pit-bound thing _up his aft._” Starscream wriggled out of his hold so that he could sit up face Steve.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” he said, giving his partner a funny look. “Besides, you can always call the guards if it gets too bad.” Steve’s visor flashed, and he pulled Starscream back down to lay on top of him.

“_Absolutely not,_” he snapped. “Not gonna happen. Overruled.” Starscream made an offended noise as his face was pressed into Steve’s neck.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” He complained, pushing himself back up again. Steve’s visor glinted mischievously.

“That’s not what you said last night,” he teased. Starscream shrieked, pulling away and falling backwards off the berth.

“Could you two cool it for  _five nanokliks?_” Knockout snapped, pausing from painting swirls on Daniel’s arm to avoid colliding with the falling seeker. “Some of us are trying to _focus!_” 

Starscream wasn’t paying attention to him, still spluttering indignantly.

“Shame for Steve!” He squawked, pointing accusingly at his cackling partner. “Shame for Steve for _One Thousand Vorns!_” 

The vehicons all stopped chattering and looked to stare them.

“Everybody shame Steve!” Starscream commanded, scrambling to his pedes. The vehicons all lined up obediently, pushing a bewildered Knockout to the side.

“Shame on Steve. Shame on Steve. Shame on Steve,” they chanted in a monotone. 

Steve didn’t stop cackling, even as Starscream grabbed him and, in a rare show of freakish strength, held him aloft over his helm. 

“What the  _fuck,_” Knockout whispered, feeling that the human curse was more appropriate to the situation. 

“Steve has sinned!” Starscream announced. “Have you anything to say for yourself, criminal?” Steve posed.

“If telling the truth is a sin, you can send me to the Pit!” He declared. Starscream growled.

“Very well then. You are henceforth  _banished _ to the Crack of Despair!” 

“Banish! Banish! Banish!” Chanted the vehicons. Knockout watched in horror.

“What’s going on?!” He hissed, elbowing Weird Brenda. She stopped chanting, turning to him.

“Oh! Starscream thinks his claustrophobia is universal, so he’s established that anyone who pisses him off has to lay under his berth until he says they can come out again,” she said conversationally. 

The chanting rose to a frenzied roar as Starscream pushed Steve into the cramped space underneath his berth with a grimace. 

“You leave me no choice!” He said grimly, gathering a stack of old paintings and propping them up against the berth to block out the light. “You must be punished for your crimes.” 

“Cool,” Steve said, flashing him a thumbs up. Starscream’s face pinched.

“Stop trying to make me feel bad, it won’t work. I’m very mean,” he insisted, almost reluctantly covering more of the space with another painting.

“Alright,” Steve chirped. Starscream’s resolve wavered, and he started snatching the paintings back up.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” he said, hurriedly dumping the art in a corner. “Steve is forgiven!” 

“Hurrah!” Shouted the vehicons as Starscream dragged Steve out from under the berth by his pedes. “All hail the merciful Lord Starscream!” 

There was a knock against the doorframe.

“You guys need to keep it down,” said a tired guard, before assessing the scene in front of her and furrowing her optical ridges. “Wait. What the frag is going on here?” 

Starscream, who had been cradling Steve close to his frame with a conflicted expression, was completely mortified at the situation he’d been caught in.

“_It’s a cult!_” He blurted shrilly. “This is a cult, and we were sacrificing Steve to our dark god!” 

The guard looked like she hadn’t slept in at least a cycle.

“You know what? I’m sorry I asked. Just don’t kill anybody.” She walked away, muttering something unintelligible.

Starscream carried Steve to the berth bridal-style and wrapped the blanket around him, looking positively miserable. 

“You gonna be okay, boss?” John asked. 

Starscream didn’t answer, curling around the Steve-burrito with a haunted look in his optics. 

...

The guard sighed heavily knocked on the door to the warden’s office.

“Come in,” said a muffled voice. She entered.

“Ultra Magnus, Sir,” She said, saluting respectfully. “Starscream started a death cult. He was having a weird ritual in his cell with a bunch of drones. Said something about a sacrifice?” Ultra Magnus frowned.

“I see. That is very disturbing information, thank you for bringing it to my attention,” he said. “I will handle the situation.” The guard nodded.

“Thank you, Sir,” She said. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s the end of my shift.” Ultra Magnus nodded. 

“Have a good evening.” The guard left, and he opened his comm.

‘Optimus Prime, Sir,’ he greeted.

‘Hello, Ultra Magnus. How are you doing?’

‘I am concerned. I have received a report that Starscream has founded some sort of violent cult, and I am requesting your assistance with an investigation. Your team understands him best, and we could use your expertise on this matter.’

‘I see. Thank you for informing me, I will discuss it with the others. Have a nice day.’

‘Likewise.’

Whatever nefarious scheme Starscream was plotting, Ultra Magnus would figure it out and put a stop to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You MOCK Starscream? You call Starscream the Bottom? Oh! Oh! Jail for Steve! Jail for Steve for One Thousand Vorns!


	22. The Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We commence the investigation. Starscream Schemes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaa I got so many amazing comments, thank you so much???? Anyway, this is Part 1 of what will henceforth be known to the Autobots as ‘Starscream Incident #4565.’

“I’m bad!” Starscream wailed, flinging himself dramatically onto the couch. The therapist blinked.

“What happened?” He asked. Starscream curled up on his side, looking distraught.

“I tried to put Steve in the Crack of Despair,” he cried. “And he’s so  good! I deserve shame!” 

“What is the  _Crack of Despair?_” The therapist asked. “And why did you try to put Steve there?” 

“He implied some unsavory but  completely correct  things about me, so I stuck him under my berth as punishment,” Starscream said guiltily, burying his face in his servos. The therapist stared at him.

“What’s so bad about the underside of your berth?” He asked. Starscream stared at him incredulously.

“Are you  serious?! Next, you’ll be asking me why supply closets are the literal Pit! Isn’t it obvious?” The therapist shook his head.

“I’m completely lost,” he said. “Do you have claustrophobia?” 

“Do you  _not?_” Starscream asked. 

“No?” Said the therapist. “Plenty of people don’t? I think it’s an aerial thing.” Starscream furrowed his optical ridges.

“Those little  _scraplets!_” He hissed, getting up. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I need to cut this session early. I’m going to have a little _chit-chat_ with my recalcitrant minions.” 

“Actually, I can’t let you leave for a few more hours,” the therapist said. “We’ve got guards stationed outside the door just in case.” Starscream’s wings dipped.

“_Why?_” He asked suspiciously. “What’s going on?” The therapist sighed.

“I literally can’t tell you without losing my job.” Starscream hesitantly sat back down, eyeing the door. 

“Am I in trouble?” He asked quietly, shaking one of his legs. His wings were faintly trembling.

“Probably not,” said the therapist. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do you want to talk about why you tried to _traumatize_ Steve over some teasing?” 

Starscream drew his mouth into a firm line.

“Hold that thought, Doctor,” he said. 

He stood and pushed the couch in front of the door, and then stacked a cheap vase on top of it. The therapist abruptly got to his pedes. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, “hold on a moment. There’s no need to do that! Besides, it’s a _sliding door._” 

Starscream grabbed the therapist’s chair and added it to the growing pile of furniture, ignoring him. The therapist reached for him.

“ _ Starscream- _ ” 

“You like me, right?” The seeker asked breathlessly, whirling around and grabbing the therapist’s shoulders. “You don’t want me to get hurt.” The therapist nodded hesitantly, trying to stave off his panic.

“Yes?” He said. “Starscream, please tell me what’s wrong.” 

“When they come for me, I need you to pretend to be my captive,” Starscream said with a half-crazed gleam in his optics. “It’ll buy me enough time to escape. Once I’m out the window, I want you to tell them that I went to Vos. Can you do that for me?” The therapist blinked rapidly, holding up a servo.

“Hold on,” He said, “are you going to take me captive? Am I your _prisoner?_” The fear was palpable in his field, and Starscream abruptly released him and took several steps back.

“_No_,” he said, “not for real. It’s all pretend. I wouldn’t- I don’t want to hurt you. I like you. No, it’s- it’s to hold  them off long enough for me to escape. I can’t  do  this again, I can’t-”

“Starscream, what  _did_ you do?” The therapist whispered in horror. The seeker recoiled.

“I didn’t do  _anything!_” He exclaimed, voice breaking. “I didn’t do anything at all! I didn’t!” His vents shut down, causing his circuitry to heat and make him feel light-headed.

“Hey, hey,” the therapist said quietly. “I need you to vent. Can you vent for me?” Starscream huddled defensively, grasping his forearms with shaking servos. 

“I didn’t do it,” he hiccuped, “they’re _liars_. I didn’t do it.” The therapist nodded.

“I believe you,” he said, taking a step closer. “You have to start venting again, okay? Can you do that?” 

Starscream nodded, and his cooling fans activated with a blast of hot air. The therapist smiled.

“Good. Would you like to sit down?” The therapist asked. Starscream glanced fearfully at his furniture blockade, shaking his helm emphatically. “Okay. How about on the floor?” 

Starscream nodded, letting himself sink to the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest with a wince, cooling fans still on their highest setting. The therapist sat next to him.

“My struts ache,” Starscream croaked. The therapist nodded.

“I’m sorry, they’ll cool themselves off in a minute. Would you like to tell me what you think you’re in trouble for?” Starscream shook his helm. “Okay, that’s fine. Is there anything that I can do to help?” 

“Repeat your part of the plan back to me,” he whispered hoarsely. The therapist smiled.

“Okay. I have to pretend to be your captive, and then when you escape I’ll say you went to Vos.” Starscream nodded, uncurling a bit. 

“Yes,” he said, “thank you. Let’s go sit by the window, and you can disable my tracker.” The therapist sighed heavily. 

“Alright,” he said with false enthusiasm. “We can do that.” 

...

Gerald eyed Team Prime distastefully, squirming in his stasis cuffs.

“Hm,” he said, “I don’t like any of you.” 

Optimus Prime blinked from his seat across from him. the rest of the team stood behind him silently, like judgmental monoliths of damnation.

“I am sorry to hear that,” the Prime replied. 

Smokescreen slammed a servo on the interrogation table, shining a flashlight into Gerald’s visor. The vehicon recoiled.

“Listen up,  _‘Con!_” He shouted. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way!” 

Ratchet, who was leaning against the wall behind Optimus, pinched the space between his optics with a tired sigh. 

“Smokescreen,” Optimus said firmly, “ _ no. _ ” 

Arcee confiscated his flashlight. Gerald bristled. 

“I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore,” he snapped. Optimus frowned.

“I apologize for that,” he said. “We simply need you to answer a few questions about Starscream.” Gerald perked up.

“Oh, Starscream? I  _love_ Starscream!” He chirped. “He thinks it’s cool that I like to do math for fun! He said it was impressive, and that made me happy!” 

The members of Team Prime made various expressions of confusion or disbelief. 

“Are you sure he’s not just using you for a scheme?” Arcee asked. Gerald shook his head.

“Oh, no-  _Steve _ is the one that does the scheming! Starscream just paints mean pictures of Megatron. There’s this one really funny one of him getting eaten alive by scraplets while organic fliers eject waste all over him! He let me hang it up next to my berth.” 

Optimus reset his vocalizer.

“I see,” he said. “What does Steve ‘scheme’ about?” Gerald shrugged.

“I dunno! I don’t pay attention to anything that happens around here,” he chirped. Optimus sighed.

“That will be all. Thank you for your time.” 

...

“Hey there, hot-wheels,” Weird Brenda cooed at Smokescreen. “Want me to take you for a _ride?_” 

Smokescreen whimpered and hid behind Bulkhead. The vehicon shrugged.

“Worth a shot,” she said, turning to Optimus. “Whaddaya want?” 

“We would like for you to answer some questions,” Optimus said, leaning forward. Weird Brenda tilted her helm to the side. 

“Oh, yeah?” She said. “Ask away.” 

“What activities do you participate in with your ‘Hippie Club?’” Optimus asked. Weird Brenda’s visor flashed.

“Oh, you mean our  _orgy cult?_” The Autobots recoiled in horror, spurring Brenda on. “Oh, it’s  tons of fun! We do all _sorts_ of kinky slag- did you know that Starscream likes it up the aft?” 

Bumblebee made a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard.

Ratchet walked over and unlocked her stasis cuffs, looking extremely tired.

“Goodbye,” he said. “Please never speak to us again.”

If Weird Brenda had had a mouth, she would have been smirking.

...

Shy Brenda trembled stiffly, staring at their servos.

“Hello-” Optimus began. They cut him off with a frightened wail.

“Oh geez,” muttered Bulkhead, cringing away from the scene. 

Cleansing fluid pooled up behind Shy Brenda’s visor, leaking down their mask as they sobbed in abject terror. 

Ratchet wordlessly unlocked their cuffs and led them to the door, giving them a gentle push out of the room.

...

“Y’know, it’s weird,” said John, tilting her helm at Optimus. “I didn’t know you had a mouth under there.” 

“I have always possessed a mouth,” Optimus replied. John nodded. 

“Wack. What’s the dealio?” Smokescreen peeked our from behind Bulkhead.

“_Please_ tell me you don’t frag Starscream,” he blurted. John balked.

“Oh, Pit no!” The Autobots sagged in relief. “That’s  _Steve’s _ job.” The grimaces fell back into place. 

“Smokescreen,  _please_ don’t ask about Starscream’s sex life,” Ratchet groaned. “That is the  _last _ thing I want to think about.” 

“What is your perception of Starscream?” Optimus asked. “What role does he play in your group’s activities?” John hummed thoughtfully.

“Depends, he kind of oscillates between ‘ringleader’ and ‘stubborn cat.’ Steve seems to think he needs protection or something, like he can’t literally pick any of us up with one servo.” She tilted her helm. “I think it’s because he’s kind of twiggy. He’s, like, a  _really dense_ twig. It took, like, three of us just to get him off the ground.” Arcee leaned forward.

“Wait, what does that mean?” She asked. “You  _pick him up?_” John shrugged. 

“Just the one time. He got hurt and was being an idiot, so Steve took executive action and had us literally haul him to the med bay. Definitely a ‘stubborn cat’ moment.” Optimus hummed, mulling over this new information.

“What is the nature of your group?” He asked. John’s visor dimmed in an approximation of screwing up one’s face in thought.

“Honestly, I have no idea. Sometimes it kind of feels like the ‘Starscream Chaperone Squad.’” Smokescreen snickered.

“What, he needs  _babysitters?_” He mocked. John’s visor flashed irritably. 

“Hey,” she snapped, “he may be a hot mess, but he’s  _our _ hot mess!” Ratchet scoffed.

“‘_Hot mess__-_’ he’s a  _war criminal!_” John snorted.

“Honestly, who  _isn’t?_” She asked. “Besides, you’re talking to one of Shockwave’s former assistants- Starscream ain’t  _nothing__._” 

“Saying someone isn’t as bad as Shockwave should be the  _bare minimum_,” Arcee said. John slumped tiredly.

“Do you even  _know _ what kinds of people we live with?” She asked. “I’d take Starscream’s grumpy painting over Megatron  any  day.” Optimus reset his vocalizer.

“Thank you,” He said. “I believe that will be all.”

...

“Knockout,” said Optimus Prime, “we have some questions.” The medic’s plating clamped down over his protoform.

“Oh?” He squeaked. “Whatever about?”

“Really not helping your case there, doc,” Bulkhead said. Knockout drooped, looking like a drowned kitten.

“This  _would_ happen,” he mourned, “I’ve been having the  _worst _ year!” Optimus blinked.

“I am sorry to hear that,” he said, “but I must ask: what is the nature of the ‘Hippie Club?’” Knockout blinked in surprise.

“Wait, that’s _it?_ Alright, then- I see it as the ‘Vacation From Megatron Club,’” he said, waving his servo dismissively. Optimus nodded.

“And what activities do you participate in?” He asked. Knockout snorted. 

“Well, usually we sit around and gossip while Starscream paints something obscene. In the past couple decacycles, though, it’s been him pretending he’s not cuddling Steve instead.” He made a face, shuddering. “It’s  _so gross!_ All weird and sappy and-  _eugh! _ It’s like, cool your jets, Starscream! Not  _everybody_ gets to have a real boyfriend!  _So _ inconsiderate!”

The Autobots looked at him as if he’d confessed a secret fetish for Quintessons.

“That’s a heap of slag,” said Smokescreen, “there’s no way that’s true.” Knockout grinned mischievously.

“Oh, but it  _is!_ And it gets better!” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Starscream doesn’t  _frag, _ he  _gets_ _fragged._” 

Bulkhead guffawed. Smokescreen made the face of a child who’d walked in on their parents having sex. Bumblebee put his face in his servos. Ratchet and Optimus were exhausted. Arcee looked like she’d bit into a lemon. 

“If I hear  _one more detail _ about Starscream’s sexual preferences, I am _literally_ going to start throwing rocks,” she snapped, and tapped Optimus on the shoulder.“Get up, I’m taking over.” 

“Arcee, the last time I allowed you to interrogate someone, they were rendered incapable of speech for a decacycle,” Optimus said. Arcee rolled her optics.

“Okay, listen- that was  _different!_ Geez, you traumatize  _one  __bot_...” Optimus gave her a Look, and she sighed. “_Fine._ I’ll be nice. Please?” 

The Prime nodded and reluctantly abdicated his seat. Arcee perched herself daintily on its edge, resetting her vocalizer.

“Alright, I’ll get to the gist of it: are you or are you not a member of a death cult run by Starscream?” She asked. 

Silence.

Knockout erupted into laughter, dropping his helm onto his cuffed servos. He sat back up a bit, trying to compose himself, before collapsing again into a fit of giggles.

“_Oh!_” He gasped. “Oh, I know what is about!” He fell back into his fit of laughter. Arcee blinked.

“Please elaborate,” she said, “this is getting ridiculous.” Knockout continued his mirth.

“It’s- it’s-” He wheezed, “oh, Primus, this is better than television!”

“What?!” Arcee pleaded. “What’s going on?” Knockout was in hysterics. 

“Oh, and- and the  chanting!  And the fragging  _Crack of Despair!_ I can’t, I can’t do this!” 

“What do you  mean,  the ‘Crack of Despair?!’” Arcee shrilled. “_What the frag?!_” Knockout only laughed harder. 

“I don’t think we’re getting anything else out of him,” Ratchet observed blandly. “It’s time to move on.”

Knockout was still cackling uncontrollably as he staggered out the door. The Autobots watched him leave with unease.

“We need to find this ‘Steve’ guy,” Arcee said grimly. “He seems to be connected to most of most of this.”

...

Steve stared at Team Prime. Team Prime stared at Steve.

“Yes?” He said. Arcee leaned forward.

“We’re onto you,” She said, narrowing her optics. “We know what you’re planning.”

“Yeah!” Smokescreen piped up. “You can’t hide your evildoing ways from us!” 

“Smokescreen,  _please,_” snapped Ratchet. Steve looked between them wildly.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “You know what I’m doing... And you’re  _mad?_” 

The Autobots were silent.

“Um... Yeah!” Declared Smokescreen. “Because... Because it’s bad!” Bulkhead put a heavy servo on his shoulder and gave him a Look. The sports car shut up.

“You have no idea what I’ve been up to, do you?” Steve asked. The Autobots didn’t answer. “So why do you assume that it’s bad?” 

“Knockout said something about a ‘Crack of Despair,’” said Ratchet. “That sounds pretty ominous to me.” Steve snickered.

“Oh, no- that one’s _all_ Starscream. He doesn’t know that claustrophobia isn’t universal, so if he gets mad at someone he makes them lay under his berth.” He sighed dreamily. “It’s  adorable. ” 

Arcee made the lemon-face again.

“Cool,” she said. “So, is this a cult or not?” 

Steve had to think about that, which wasn’t encouraging in the least.

“I mean, I  _did _ make them all pledge their eternal loyalty to Starscream,” he muttered. The Autobots frowned. “But, we don’t really... Listen to him. And we’re not really doing anything. Honestly, if there’s anyone you should be concerned about, it’s  _Megatron._” Steve spat the name like a curse.

“Steve, this is a yes or no question,” Arcee said tiredly, rapidly losing patience. “_Did Starscream found a cult?_” Steve shook his helm.

“No, Starscream just existed. It kind of formed  _around_ him,” he said. 

“So, it _is_ a cult,” Arcee said. Steve made an ‘eh’ noise.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s more like a social group,” he said. “Of course, with the occasional ritualistic practice- and we do have _rules_, so-” Arcee slammed her servos on the table.

“ _ Just answer the question! _ ” She snapped. Steve’s visor dimmed thoughtfully.

“I’m gonna go with a  tentative ‘no,’” he said. Arcee in-vented sharply.

“Smokescreen,” she said, “do  you want to have a turn?” The Autobots all spoke at once.

“Hold on-”

_ Dial-up noises. _

“Arcee, that is ill-advised-”

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea-”

Arcee held up a servo. 

“Trust me on this,” she said, getting out of the chair. Smokescreen pranced giddily to the table, plopping his aft in the seat like it was Santa’s lap.

“You’re gonna wanna spill the beans,  punk,” he said, trying to sound gruff. “My buddy over there? He’s _nuts!_ He’ll go apeshit on you if you don’t talk.” 

He pointed to Optimus Prime, who endured the indignity with silent exhaustion.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked, humoring him. “What do you wanna know?” 

Smokescreen got out of his seat, leaning over the table until his face was uncomfortably close to Steve’s.

“Do you and Starscream... _Y’know?_” He made a vulgar motion with his servos. 

_ Clang. _

Ratchet had slammed his helm into the wall. Steve’s visor brightened.

“That’s really none of your business,” he said, “but yes. We do.”

Arcee unsubspaced a rock and threw it at one of Smokescreen’s doorwings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you liked it!!! Thanks so much for reading!!!


	23. Investigation, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shit gets sorted out. Starscream is a precious pain the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaa thank you so much, guys!!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying this fic as much as I am!!!!

“_Ow,_” Smokescreen whined, pouting in the timeout corner. “Why do you even  _ have  _ rocks in your subspace?” Arcee folded her arms.

“I never make a threat I can’t carry out,” she said. 

“Both of you, _shut up_,” snapped Ratchet. “I’m taking over this absolute circus.” He sat down heavily in the chair.

“You okay there, doc?” Bulkhead asked. The medic held up a digit.

“Ep-ep-ep! Zip it!” He turned to Steve. “As for  _you._ If you don’t start giving us some straight answers, I can and will reformat you into a trash compactor.” Steve huffed.

“ _No,_ it’s not a cult. Why would it even matter if it  was,  anyway? We’re, like, some of the best behaved inmates in this entire prison!” He leaned back, looking them all over. “This is ridiculous. You get all up in arms about us just minding our own business, but you let _Megatron_ traipse around like he owns the place. Seriously,  _every time_ we walk past him, he looks at Starscream like he wants to  _ eat  _ him.” 

“Why? What’d he do?” Smokescreen piped up. Steve gave him a flat stare. 

“He  _escaped,_ that’s what.” 

The room was silent for a moment. 

“To answer your question,” Ratchet said, abruptly changing the topic, “we received a report that your little ‘not-cult’ was... Well,  _ sacrificing  _ _people._” 

Steve stared at him, air  _whooshing_ out of his vents in a long sigh. 

“Okay, that’s very much  _ not true, _ ” he said, “but you’re gonna have to get _Starscream_ to explain that to you.” Ratchet blinked.

“Why?” He asked. Steve looked at the ceiling tiredly.

“It’s... An embarrassing story. For him,” he said. “But you also have to keep in mind that he’s absolutely _full of scrap._” 

Ratchet looked like he wanted to protest, but Optimus silenced him with a servo on his shoulder. The medic sighed.

“ Fine, ” He said. 

There was a knock on the door.

“Pardon my interruption,” came Ultra Magnus’s muffled voice, “but I have received a comm from Starscream’s therapist. Apparently, he’s barricaded himself in the office and refuses to come out.” 

Steve dropped his helm on his servos with a  clang.

“_Dammit._” 

...

“Are you sure about this?” Arcee asked, furrowing her optical ridges at Optimus. The Prime nodded. 

“We will be present the entire time,” he said. “He will not try anything.” 

Steve rubbed at his wrists, sighing irritably.

“Trust me,” he said, “I speak Starscream.”

When they reached the scene, a guard was banging at the door.

“Starscream,” he said, “come out with your servos in the air.” He was answered by a shrill screech:

“ _ You’ll never catch me alive, Pit-spawn! _ ” 

Steve scrubbed at his visor, and pushed past the guard.

“Starscream,” he called, knocking on the door, “you’ve gotta stop. I don’t know what your deal is, but this isn’t doing you any favors.”

“ _ Steve?! _ ” The seeker shrilled. “Oh, I see what this is!  _Blackmail!_ Well, it won’t work- I’ve never had a single emotion in my life, and I’m not about to start now!” 

Steve groaned, looking like he wanted to start beating his helm against the wall.

“ _No,_ there’s just been a misunderstanding. Can you _please_ come out, before someone blows the door down?” He pleaded tiredly.

“They won’t do that- I have a  _ hostage! _ ” Starscream declared proudly. 

Steve could almost  _see_ the cocky little smirk that he got when he had a _very bad idea._

“Ah,” said the therapist flatly, “please help. I am very afraid.” 

“Oh, come on! You can do better than _that!_” He heard Starscream hiss. 

“I’m not an actor for a  _ reason,  _ Starscream!” The therapist hissed back. “Maybe you should listen to your boyfriend!” 

_ Squawk. _

_ Crash. _

“ _Really?_ I  liked  that vase!” 

“Ceramics are cheap, dignity is  not! ” 

“Show me how this situation is  _dignified,_ Starscream!” 

“We can still hear you, y’know,” said Steve, knocking on the door again. He heard a muffled curse, and sighed. 

_ Scoot. Scoot. _

“What are you  _ doing?! _ ” The seeker squawked.

“Moving-  _ slag-  _ moving this couch out of the way!”

“What?  _ No! _ ”

“The longer this goes on, the more trouble you’ll be in,” grunted the therapist.

_ Scoot.  _

“Well- well, when I’m  _ dead,  _ I’m going to haunt you so hard! I’ll break  _ all  _ of your vases!” 

_ Scoot. Scoot. _

“That’s nice.” 

“Nobody’s going to kill you, Starscream,” Steve shouted. 

“You don’t _know_ that !”

_ Scoot. Scoot. _

“Oh, just give it here, you wimp!” 

_ Sliiiiiiiide. _

“You can lift half the couch?!”

“You  _ can’t? _ ” 

“This is  _fascinating_, ” Ratchet said quietly. The door slid open a crack.

“What do you want,” Starscream spat, optic illuminating the metal of the doorframe. It narrowed when it settled upon Team Prime. “Oh, it’s  _ you. _ ”

“Can you  _please_ come out?” Steve pleaded. “ _Please?_ I need you to explain to them that we’re not secretly making sacrifices to Unicron or something.” 

“Wait, what?” Starscream asked, opening the door a little further. His face peeked out. Steve made vague gestures.

“Y’know, the Crack of Despair incident?” The seeker’s optics widened in realization. 

“Oh.” He frowned at Steve. “Why didn’t you tell me that grounders aren’t afraid of small spaces?!” The vehicon snickered.

“It was funny,” he said. Starscream made his ‘rotten pumpkin’ face. “Seriously, though. I think the blue one’s about to kill somebody.” 

The seeker huffed dramatically, holding up a digit.

“One klik,” He said. 

He closed the door again, and all was silent until the therapist piped up.

“Oh, it’s okay!” He said. “It was cheap, anyway.” Steve’s visor brightened affectionately, and he snorted.

_ Cutie. _

Starscream’s opened the door fully and slouched, watching the Autobots warily.

“Very well, then,” he said, offering up his wrists with a roll of his optics. “Lead the way.”

...

The interrogation room was silent but for the incessant tapping of Starscream’s digits as he pouted at the Autobots before him. 

“Starscream,” said Optimus, “would you please share?” The seeker looked away, grunting stubbornly. 

Ratchet firmly planted his servos on the table.

“Listen up, you  overgrown scraplet, ” he snapped. “I was up  _all last night_ taking a double-shift. I haven’t fueled in  half a cycle , because I’ve spent the past  five hours  listening to your little cronies blather about _stupid slag_ because  you  seem to have gotten a little  _ embarrassed  _ over something ridiculous!”

Starscream glowered at him silently. Ratchet continued:

“I have been forced to learn about your phobias, your relationships, and your fragging  _ sexual preferences!  _ There is literally  _nothing_ you could tell us right now that is worse than having to picture you  _ taking it up the aft.  _ Start. Talking.” Starscream shrank in horror.

“Wait,  what?! ” He squeaked. “First of all, I do  _not_,  and second: _Who said that?_” Ratchet grimaced.

“ Just tell us why we got a report that you’re running some sort of  _ death cult! _ ” 

Starscream’s mouth drew itself into a thin line, and he looked to the door as if willing something to come through it and spare him the awkward conversation.

“... Um,” he said. “Well, you see... It’s all  _ Steve’s  _ fault!” The Autobots looked unconvinced. 

“Uh huh,” said Ratchet. “Elaborate.” Starscream fumbled desperately for words.

“He- He said something  _ unsavory _ , so I had to put him in time-out. With some chanting. And melodrama.” The Autobots were silent. “And _maybe_ I told the guard that came to investigate the noise that I was sacrificing him to a dark god.” 

The Autobots, sans Optimus, all groaned in frustration. Bumblebee started beating his helm against the wall. Ratchet’s optic twitched. 

“ _ What. _ ” He said, digits twitching as if aching to strangle Starscream. “_Why_ would you _do_ that ? ” The seeker hunched defensively.

“I  _ panicked! _ ” He whined. Bulkhead slumped against the wall.

“Why can’t you have  _ normal  _ problems for once?” He complained. “It’s always something weird with you!” 

“Can I _leave_ now?” Starscream asked impatiently.

Optimus had to confiscate Arcee’s rock. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this fic has cemented a headcanon of mine that Starscream is just Really, Really Weird. 
> 
> Like, he’s half the size of a normal jet, but he’s still condensed down into a twig. Also, that one post floating around about how he’s stronger than he looks makes me want to say that he’s just Special and that it’s Not just a Cybertronian thing. He’s just freakishly strong. It’s funnier that way, in my opinion.
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading!!! Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you liked it! :)


	24. Cognitive Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots aren’t convinced that Starscream isn’t secretly running a creepy murder cult, so they commit an invasion of privacy! :D
> 
> (Credit to StarsAndUniverses for the idea!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all!!! Thanks again for all the support and whatnot, it always makes me smile! :)

Team Prime gathered in Magnus’s office, discussing the interrogations.

“This information is as confusing as it is disturbing,” the warden said, looking over the reports.

“Tell me about it,” said Ratchet, “the only thing I can say for certain is that Starscream paints and is in a relationship with Steve, who apparently ‘schemes.’”

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s not buying this,” said Bulkhead. “Forming a cult for his own protection is  _exactly_ the kind of thing ‘Screamer would do.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Arcee. “There’s no way this whole ‘vacation from Megatron’ thing isn’t complete slag. Did you  _ see  _ how nervous Knockout was?”

“Not to mention the fact that Starscream thinks he’s done something that warrants _execution_,” Ratchet added. “That’s incredibly suspicious.” 

“Yeah,” Smokescreen chimed in. “Plus, didn’t this ‘Steve’ guy keep trying to change the topic to Megatron?  _ Fishy!_” Bumblebee buzzed his agreement. 

“I feel similarly,” said Optimus, “but I find myself at a loss for how to proceed-”

“_Cameras!_” Ratchet interrupted, obviously having thought about this to some extent. “We put cameras in his cell and wait for him to  _ slip up!_” Optimus gave him a stern look.

“We will observe the situation and draw our conclusions based on what we record,” he corrected.

“Right,” Ratchet said, “that.” Ultra Magnus hummed.

“I will set about arranging that,” he said. “It is a worrisome possibility that Starscream could be a threat to the other inmates.” 

“Thank you,” Optimus said with a smile. “I am certain that this will shed some light on the situation.”

...

Day 1:

It was Smokescreen who had enthusiastically volunteered to take the first shift, much to the confusion of the rest of the team.

He was so excited! He hadn’t gotten to do a lot before the end of the war, so he’d take any opportunity he could to kick some ‘Con aft!

... Even if all he was doing was sitting around watching Starscream recharge. 

“_Ugh,_” the sports car groaned, spinning himself in circles in his chair. He picked at his servos idly, kicking his pedes to the rhythm of a song he’d heard on Earth once that had gotten stuck in his head. 

On the monitor, Starscream was still asleep. His wings flicked a bit, and he scrunched up his face as if something was bothering him. Smokescreen focused intently on the monitor, just in case the former air commander started mumbling about his nefarious plans. 

“ _ ‘Warp, _ ” The seeker grumbled, squirming away from an imaginary touch. One of his wings hit the wall, and he onlined with a yelp.

“Ouch,” Smokescreen giggled. “No rest for the wicked, eh, ‘Screamer?” 

Starscream’s expression cycled from irritated to distraught, and he abruptly slapped himself in the face.

“ _No_, ” he scolded, jabbing his digit at nothing. “Stop being _stupid!_” 

Smokescreen blinked.

“O-kay,” the sports car muttered. 

The seeker shook his helm and slid off of his berth, pacing his cell with practiced ease without stepping on any of the junk that littered his floor.

“Plans,” He said to himself, “plans are useful things to think about- I will think about  _ plans_.” Smokescreen perked up.

“ _ Yes, _ ” he whispered, pumping a fist in the air. Starscream clasped his servos behind his back, pacing faster.

“Let’s see...” he muttered. “First order of business: find the rumor-spreader. I know it can’t be Steve, because he knows what I like and he would have shared something accurate. It can’t be Lacey, GroundBoy, or Joe, because they all think interface is gross and don’t like to talk about it. It’s highly unlikely to be John, because she has too much common sense. Gerald is too nice...” 

He continued like this for five minutes, debating with himself over the likelihood of his various followers being the culprit using weird, obscure facts about them that made him sound like a one-mech gossip database. Smokescreen was bored to tears.

“Come  _ o-hon!_” He whined, slumping in his seat. “Get to the good part, already!” Finally, Starscream stopped and snapped his digits.

“Aha! It’s definitely one of _those two_ _ ! _ ” He chuckled darkly. “Soon, I will be feeding some unfortunate spark to the Crack of Despair!” 

Well,  _ that  _ sounded concerning. Smokescreen logged the time, making sure to note what it was that the seeker had said. 

On the monitor, the cell door slid open to signal the end of curfew. Starscream left, leaving Smokescreen to stare at an empty cell for an hour. 

...

“Minions!” Cried Starscream from the monitor. 

Smokescreen, who had fallen into recharge, jolted so hard that he fell out of his chair. 

“ _ Slag- _ ”

“I know one of you was telling the Autobots filthy  _ lies  _ about my interfacing preferences,” The seeker continued, unaware of his silent observer. “And, if you do not confess to your crimes in the next  _ thirty kliks__..._” 

“Oh scrap,” Smokescreen hissed, tensing in preparation for what was sure to be a gruesome threat.

“... I will cry the  _ ugliest  _ fit you have ever seen in your miserable existences!” The vehicons gasped in horror. Smokescreen relaxed his struts, jaw falling open in confusion.

“Wait,  _ what-_”

“And  _everyone_ is going to have to deal with it! _I _ _ will not stop  _ _until you come clean!_” Starscream placed his servos on his hips, screwing up his face in preparation to start bawling. “Five, four, three, two-”

“Okay, okay, geez!” Weird Brenda exclaimed, pushing her way out of the crowd. “I’m sorry, won’t happen again, just  please  don’t cry!” The vehicons gasped, scandalized. Starscream pointed at her victoriously.

“ _ Aha! _ ” He crowed. “It was either you or Knockout, and I know for certain he’d sit back and watch me go into hysterics out of curiosity!”

“To be fair,” aforementioned medic piped up, “I’ve never actually seen you cry. Can you blame me for wanting to know what it looks like?” Starscream gave him a dirty look.

“You diabolical _genius_,” said Weird Brenda, sounding almost  prideful. “What’s gonna happen to me?” 

Starscream beckoned her silently, and picked her up once she got close enough. 

“Commence the shaming!” He commanded, holding her above his head in what looked like a bizarre homage to the Lion King.

“ _ Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame, _ ” chanted the vehicons. 

“What the  _frag_,” whispered Smokescreen, too transfixed by the insanity onscreen to remember to log the data.

“Weird Brenda has sinned!” Starscream declared. “Her punishment is  _ three hours  _ in the Crack of Despair!” 

“ _ Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame. _ ” 

“I am aware that most of you have no problem with confined spaces, but that doesn’t mean that you’re immune to _boredom!_ Have fun staring at the deactivated scraplet under there,  _ heretic!_” 

Smokescreen activated his comm unit, staring worriedly at the screen. He was shocked by Weird Brenda’s giggle. 

“Oh, never change,” the vehicon said fondly, looking over her shoulder to her captor. “I’ll tell our ‘dark god’ you said hi.” The vehicons all burst into laughter. 

Starscream pouted.

“I’m still mad at you,” he said. “But perhaps _three_ hours is extreme. As your merciful tyrannical overlord, I’ll cut it down to one and half.” He put Weird Brenda down, and she proceeded to shimmy under the berth. 

“Thanks, boss!” She chirped, flashing him a thumbs-up.

‘Smokescreen?’ Ratchet asked through the comm. ‘Is everything alright? Did you find something?’ The sports car stared at the monitor in open-mouthed confusion. 

‘Um,’ he replied, ‘I’m not really sure.’

‘I see. Record the time so we can review whatever it was later. Don’t interrupt me again unless you have something really important. I’m in the middle of surgery.’

‘Right. Sorry.’

Unfortunately for the sports car, nothing interesting occurred for the rest of the cycle. The spinny chair’s hinges almost broke from overuse.

...

Day 2:

Arcee watched the sleeping form of Starscream onscreen with narrowed optics, waiting for him to do something abominable.

Like threaten to steal fuel from a newspark. Or maybe gnaw someone’s face off. Something just plain evil, exactly like him.

Said menace to society snuggled into his blanket with a tiny smile, fluttering his wings.

Oh, yes- it was only a matter of time until he hurt someone.

The cell door opened abruptly as curfew ended. Starscream didn’t stir.

“Lazy,” Arcee scoffed. How typical of that slimy, no-good, partner-killing, spike-sucking coward!

“Starscream,” said Steve a few minutes later, entering the cell with a cube. “I didn’t see you at the dispensary, so I brought you some fuel.” 

Ah, yes- how _despicable!_ Forcing his innocent thralls to fetch things for him like slaves! Arcee logged the time. 

Starscream stirred, rubbing one of his optics sleepily. 

“Hm?” He scrunched up his face as he sat up and stretched, wings fluttering. Steve chuckled.

“Good morning,” he said. Starscream hummed in acknowledgment, flopping back into the berth. Steve nudged him.

“Hey, you lump,” he teased, “Do you want your cube?” Starscream’s optics opened, and he gave Steve a confused grunt before noticing the fuel in his servo.

“Oh,” he said, sitting back up. “... Thank you.” 

_Deception and manipulation!_ Arcee logged the time.

Steve’s visor brightened affectionately, and he sat next to Starscream on the berth. 

“‘Course,” the vehicon said. “I got you three scoops of magnesium, just the way you like it.” Starscream blinked, and his optics were shining oddly.

Must have been a trick of the light.

“I...” His voice cracked. “You’re my  _ favorite__._” He slumped awkwardly on Steve’s shoulder, looking almost  teary.

Arcee made a note to get the monitor checked for malfunctions. 

“Hey,” Steve cooed, wrapping an arm around his companion, “What’s the matter?” Starscream sat up and shook his helm, resetting his vocalizer. 

“Nothing!” He blurted, taking the cube. He looked Steve up and down. “We should ‘face.” 

The vehicon burst into laughter, doubling over and clutching his midsection.

“Maybe,” He said, straightening back up and tugging the seeker closer. “But you have to finish your fuel first. Remember that cycle you forgot about it altogether and almost went into stasis?” 

Starscream grumbled his assent, begrudgingly leaning back into Steve’s embrace.

Arcee logged the time, narrowing her optics. She didn’t know  _ what  _ the seeker had done wrong, but it was definitely  _something_. 

Oh, yes- Starscream was _clearly_ up to no good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arcee is never going to view Starscream as anything other than an 80s cartoon villain, and that’s my spicy hot take for today! I don’t blame her, but I’m also going to exploit that ruthlessly in this fic for comedic purposes.
> 
> Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed, thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Also- apparently g1 Starscream is shorter than his trine but like 10 tons heavier? It’s canon folks. Starscream is denser than a black hole.


	25. Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues. Bumblebee is a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update (for me)! Here’s another one, but it’s a bit short. 
> 
> Warning: mature content. Heavily implied sex scene.

Day 3:

Bulkhead was going to start beating his helm on something. He had been watching Starscream paint for  five hours.  That in and of itself wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he couldn’t see what the picture was, and he was bored to tears.

Occasionally, a vehicon would drop by and chat, but for the most part it was just Starscream and the weird little noises he made.

“Myeh,” the seeker said, screwing up his face in concentration. “Hrm.” He rested his chin in his servo, frowning thoughtfully.

“This was a bad idea,” Bulkhead muttered to himself, silently imploring Starscream to just  _ do something! _

The seeker straightened, putting his paintbrush down and scurrying to the paint bin. Bulkhead leaned closer to the monitor in hopes that his silent prayers had been answered.

“ _ Ha! _ ” Starscream crowed, grabbing a shriveled-looking tube of dark blue. “Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes!” He hopped back onto his stool, chuckling evilly. 

Bulkhead sagged. Starscream snickered as he continued painting, biting his lip. His wings shuddered with his mirth.

“Hey, Starscream,” said Daniel, poking his helm into the cell. “I was wondering if- Oh, wow, that’s _really_ anatomically correct!” 

Bulkhead perked up again, hoping the vehicon would bring something interesting to watch.

“Hm,” Starscream hummed proudly, servo flicking delicately. “Yes?”

_ Please be drama, please be drama! _

“Okay, I want to know how plausible this sounds: so, my character and his love interest just got in a fight, right? Well, they’re both really stubborn, and...”

_ What? No! _

Bulkhead nodded off, dreaming of Starscream noises and plot development.

...

Day 4:

Bumblebee loved and respected his team, he really did- but he was about to commit arson.

_ Vroom, rumble.  _

_ Shlik, shlik, shlik. _

Why him? What had he done to deserve this? He shuddered, making a futile effort to further cover his audials. 

“_Steve!  _ Oh, I’m- I’m-”

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

“Yes,  _ yes-_”

It had been like this for  _ four hours. _

Bumblebee loved and respected his team, but he did not regret logging the time of the fifth or so overload.

If _he_ had to suffer, so did the rest of them.

...

Day 5:

“What do you  _mean_, none of you want to monitor the cameras?” Ratchet asked, pinching the space between his optics.

“Looking at Starscream’s face for long periods of time fills me with rage,” Arcee said flatly. “Last time, I almost smashed the monitor.” 

“Yeah, plus it’s  _ boring!_” Smokescreen whined. “He did, like,  one  thing and then just painted the rest of the day. I don’t think he’s actually  _ doing  _ anything.” 

“I’m with Smokescreen- this might just be a wild goose chase,” Bulkhead added. 

“I don’t think so,” Ratchet said, looking over a datapad. “Arcee logged  _ thirty-six _ specific instances she thought were suspicious.” Optimus stepped forward.

“I suggest that we review the footage before taking further action,” he said. Ratchet sighed heavily.

“_Fine_,” he said, “but let’s not take too long- I have a shift at the hospital in a few hours.” The rest of Team Prime nodded their assent.

Smokescreen’s footage went first.

“Okay,” said Ratchet after they paused the first logged moment during which Starscream declared his intent to feed the Crack of Despair. “That  _ definitely _ sounds like a sacrifice.” Smokescreen nodded.

“I _know_, right? But wait- it gets weird.”

They watched the Shaming ritual, and sat in silence after it ended. Suddenly, Arcee broke the silence.

“How the frag is this guy such a wimp when he can casually pick up an  _ entire person?_” 

“I’m more curious as to why he threatened to  _cry_,” Ratchet said, furrowing his optical ridges at the monitor. Smokescreen nodded emphatically.

“See? It’s  _ super  _ weird- and none of the other guys seemed to be, like,  _ afraid  _ of him or anything!” Optimus hummed thoughtfully.

“This is indeed strange. Shall we progress to Arcee’s footage?”

Ratchet brought the day 2’s first tagged clip onto the monitor, and the Autobots watched it curiously, expecting something gruesome or dramatic.

They were sorely disappointed. 

“This is _sickening_,” Ratchet muttered, watching the saccharine domesticity with a grimace.

Arcee suddenly seemed to find the surface of the table quite fascinating, resolutely ignoring the confused stares of her comrades. 

“... Alright,” Ratchet said, skipping to the next clip. And then the next. And then the next.

Starscream and Steve snuggling.

Starscream and Steve cracking jokes.

Starscream and Steve whispering conspiratorially.

Starscream and Steve chatting. 

Finally, Arcee put her face in her servos and groaned.

“I... May have been a little sleep-deprived that day,” she confessed. 

“Are they _all_ like this?” Ratchet asked exasperatedly. Arcee nodded mutely, and he sighed. “Alright, then. All we have left is one clip from Bumblebee.” 

The yellow mech chirped, with an odd gleam in his optics. Ratchet pulled up the footage. 

”Sweet Solus Prime, _no!_” The medic shrieked. Bulkhead dry-heaved. 

Bumblebee ended up kicked off the investigation after that, and he really couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	26. Hi-Ho Silver, Away!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on, despite the appalling privacy invasions. 
> 
> Remember Knockout? He’s here, too! Let’s have a chapter about Knockout. 
> 
> Warning for Megatron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look closely, you can pinpoint the exact moment my brain started playing yakkity sax.

After a few too many close calls, Knockout and Dismember had silently agreed that the safest place to meet was the old closet in the camera-free corridor.

It was grody, smelled funny, and had some suspicious stains, but Knockout was willing to suffer for the things he loved. 

“_Hello_, beautiful,” the medic purred, stroking a digit across the new container of polish. “It’s been  far  too long.” Dismember snorted.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled, sitting on a creaky stool that likely predated the war. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, with the way you’ve been liquidating my savings.” Knockout shot him a Look.

“And  _ you’re _ lucky that you’ve got enough money to keep me satisfied,” he retorted. “C’mere, let me show you my _appreciation_.” 

He seated himself on his partner’s lap and began pressing butterfly kisses along his jaw, delicately tracing the seams along his broad arms.

Dismember pushed Knockout away with a frown. 

“I was thinking maybe we could talk instead. Y’know, spend time together or something,” he said. Knockout frowned back at him. 

“About  what? ” He asked, field tinged with unease. “We have nothing in common.” Dismember wrapped his arms around Knockout’s waist, pulling him against his chest.

“Maybe we could get to know each other?” He suggested. “We’ve been at this for a decacycles now, and I still don’t know  _anything_ about you,” The medic leaned away, shimmying out of his partner’s hold.

“So?” He almost snapped, sliding off of Dismember’s lap. “That doesn’t  _matter_. We’re just fragging.” The guard’s face screwed up a bit, and his field felt sickeningly earnest. 

“Well, maybe I want to do _more_ than just frag,” he said. 

Knockout stared into his sincere purple optics and felt like he was going to be sick. He pressed himself against the door, fumbling for the controls to open it. 

“I-” he stammered, ignoring the lump in his throat. “I don’t want- I don’t think I can do that. I can’t- I’m sorry.” 

Dismember opened his mouth to protest, but Knockout found the button and stumbled out of the closet, clinging to his polish.

He sprinted as far away as he possibly could from that corridor, ignoring the obnoxiously persistent stinging in his optics. 

It was fine. He was _fine_.

...

The next day found Knockout once again in Starscream’s cell with the rest of the Hippie Club, obsessively filing his claws. 

“Dude, you’re going to hit your protoform if you’re not careful,” Weird Brenda said, eyeing the thinning armor of Knockout’s digits with no small amount of concern.

The medic grunted, but otherwise ignored her. She shrugged and left to do something else. 

Not thirty seconds later, Knockout cursed and stuck his digit in his mouth, having worn through to the energon lines in his protoform. Weird Brenda gave him a stern look.

“What did I tell you?” She scolded. “Come on, I’ll take you to the med-bay.” She reached for his arm, and Knockout recoiled.

“I’m  _fine_,” he said, jerking his arm away. “I can go by myself.” 

Steve elbowed Starscream, who was halfheartedly painting himself in a crown. The seeker started. 

“What?” He hissed. Steve tilted his helm at Knockout, and Starscream rolled his optics. “ _Fine_. ” He beckoned impatiently to Knockout, who was busy sneering at anyone who got too close.

“What?!” The medic snapped defensively, holding his injured servo protectively you his chest. Starscream grimaced at the deja-vu and put his servos on his hips.

“Just shut up and come with me,” he sighed, massaging the side of his helm. “Quit being an idiot.” 

“Butt out,” Knockout sneered, jutting his chin out impudently. 

“You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Starscream muttered, staring down at the flashy red grounder. Knockout glared evenly back up at him. “Very well, then.” 

...

“I hate you,” Knockout grumbled, dangling over Starscream’s shoulder. “You’re the worst. _Die_.” The seeker grit his denta and adjusted his grip, refusing to rise to the bait. 

Several bystanders gaped stupidly at the odd pair, and Starscream shot them murderous looks.

“You know, I’m usually fairly dense in social situations,” he ground out, “but I can read you like an unprotected datapad. You’re going to have to do better than _that_ to make me retaliate.” 

Knockout fumed and made a face that was likely supposed to be intimidating.  


It was a pout.

“Starscream,” called Megatron, sidling up to his wayward subordinate with Soundwave. “Having  _ obedience issues?_”

Knockout squeaked, and his plating clamped down onto his protoform. Starscream simply walked faster.

“I’m really,  _ really  _ not in the mood,” he snapped. “Don’t you have anything  _ better  _ to do with your time?” Megatron’s optics lit up.

“So you admit that you are a waste of time!” He crowed victoriously. 

“And  _ you  _ are the idiot who insists on harassing me anyway,” Starscream said icily. Megatron glowered, but the seeker ignored him.

“You seem to have forgotten your  _ place _ ,” the former warlord spat. Starscream rolled his optics.

“I’ve got more important things to do right now, I’m afraid I’ll have to reschedule our bickering to a later date!” He hoisted his frightened cargo further up his shoulder.

Knockout looked between the three of them in horror.

“Uh, Starscream,” he whispered. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

Megatron leered at them, getting uncomfortably close to Knockout’s face.

“Perhaps you should listen to your little _sycophant_, Starscream,” he growled, “and hope that some of his good sense rubs off on you.” Starscream scoffed, but otherwise ignored him.

“_Please_ walk faster,” Knockout whimpered. “I can see the hairline scratches in his armor.” 

“You _had_ your chance to be reasonable,” Starscream chided, “and now you can shut up and deal with the consequences of your stubbornness.” Knockout balked.

“Is now  _ really  _ the time?!” He shrilled. “I’m about to get harvested for _scrap metal_ back here!” 

“So  _noisy_,” Megatron sneered, still looming over Starscream (and subsequently Knockout). “It is unsurprising that you’re struggling to maintain authority over your little ‘minions.’”  


Starscream’s wings stiffened.

“Oh, and I suppose you have a  _ fantastic  _ track record with...” Starscream whirled around (causing Knockout to squeak at the sudden change in position), digit poised to jab emphatically, only to realize what exactly he was doing. “That?” 

Megatron smirked, knowing he had the upper hand.

“Is there something you’d like to  _ share_, Starscream?” He purred, towering over the seeker’s cringing form. 

“Um,” Starscream said intelligently. “Good talk?” 

Megatron did not appear to be impressed. 

Knockout panicked and attempted to squirm out of Starscream’s death grip, only to find himself clutched bridal-style in between an angry Megatron and his target.

Starscream abruptly spun back around and started sprinting. Knockout hesitantly peeked over his shoulder and screamed.

While Megatron had elected to stand back and watch them flee, Soundwave was hot on their tails- and he was  _fast_.

“Go, go, _go!_” Knockout shrieked, smacking Starscream’s shoulder for dear life.

“Shut _up_, you’re  _ heavy!_” The seeker complained, turning a corner to the final stretch of hallway between them and the med-bay. 

Knockout made a noise akin to an air raid siren as Soundwave got close enough that the medic could view his terrorized reflection in his visor.

“_Hurry!_” He wailed. “Oh my god,  _ go!_” 

“Shut up, _shut _ _ up!_” Starscream shouted, leaping the final few meters into the med-bay. 

He landed painfully on his knees, leaving silver streaks as he slid awkwardly across the floor. The medical personnel all stared, completely flummoxed. 

Knockout peeked back over Starscream’s shoulder to find that Soundwave had stopped just shy of the door, looming ominously in the hallway. 

One of the medics stepped forward hesitantly.

“... _Knockout?_” She asked. “Are you okay?” 

Starscream abruptly released his death grip on his comrade and let him fall to the ground with a noisy  _ clang! _

“Mission accomplished!” He slurred before passing out on his side. Knockout knew without even looking that his poor aft was dented.

“For the love of god,” he croaked to his stunned coworker, “_please_ help me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, folks! Sorry this took so long. 
> 
> Today I gave myself an impromptu haircut, and only halfway through did I realize what I was doing (to the horror of my poor, appalled roommate). That tells you pretty much all you need to know about my current mental state. 😎👉👉 
> 
> Anyway, leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed!


	27. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave is creepy. Knockout runs out of blue paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your amazing comments and continued support! This is the longest story I’ve ever written in my life, and I’m still having fun!

Though it felt like someone had taken a mace to his rear-end, Knockout had only received a couple minor dents in his aft-plates. Unfortunately, they still looked like he’d been groped by an inebriated insecticon.

His digit, which was far less painful in comparison, had been replaced. That wasn’t technically necessary, or even advised, butKnockout  refused to wear an ugly patch over the area while his self-repair systems grew the armor back. If the prison’s spare part supply ran low, well. First come, first serve.

Starscream had been awake for some time, uncharacteristically silent. He simply stood awkwardly next to the bench Knockout was seated on and stared into space. Aforementioned medic poked him.

“Hey,” he said, waving his servo in front of the seeker’s face. Starscream blinked to attention, frowning. “What’s your deal?” 

“What’s  _ my  _ deal?!” Starscream asked incredulously. “Says the one who filed through his own  _ armor!_” Knockout fluttered his digits dismissively.

“Whatever. Why do you look like a mopey Disney Princess?” Starscream looked disgusted. 

“I’m _never_ going to forgive Ultra Magnus for forcing me to understand what that means,” he muttered, “but if you  _ must _ know, I was mentally preparing my obituary.” 

They both hesitantly peeked out the door to the med-bay. 

Soundwave remained in the hall, a shadowy testament to Megatron’s wrath. 

Starscream did a full-body shudder, and Knockout made a sound like a melting rubber chicken. 

“This is all your fault,” the seeker muttered.

Knockout kicked him. 

A few seconds later, a vehicon pranced into the med-bay.

“Starscream!” Parker cried, immediately attaching himself to his unfortunate object of endless affection.

“_Marker_,” Starscream acknowledged tiredly. Parker ignored his slip-up.

“I was worried about you, but Steve said that you were probably fine, but then you didn’t come back, so I snuck out to come find you!” He babbled, hanging off of Starscream like a demented koala. “Also, hi, Knockout!” He waved cheerfully. Knockout blinked and waved back with much less enthusiasm.

“Marker, get off of me,” Starscream said. Parker reluctantly let go, still standing far too close for comfort.

“What’s taking you guys so long?” He asked. Knockout wordlessly pointed to Soundwave.

“ _That_, ” Starscream answered. 

Soundwave observed them from the hallway, somehow exuding smug confidence through his featureless visor and neutral body-language. 

  
He held the trio’s gaze for a moment before faux-lunging at them.

Starscream shrieked and made an uncoordinated attempt to climb Knockout, who had grabbed Parker to use as a shield. The three of them ended up in a heap on the ground, under the judgmental gazes of the occupants of the med-bay.

Soundwave looked even _more _smug, the absolute fragger.

“Guys,” said a very tired medic, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Knockout gaped at her in horror.

“But, but-” he waved his servo in Soundwave’s general direction. “_That!  _ That  _ thing!_” Starscream shivered.

“It’s  _horrible_,” he added. The medic rolled her optics. 

“Soundwave can’t hurt you,” she said, as if the mech were an imaginary monster in the closet, “he’s got too many witnesses.” 

“Yeah!” Chirped Parker. “Plus, you’re creepy, too, boss!” Starscream blinked.

“Oh,” he said with a flattered smile, “well. Thank you, I try.” 

The medic made a strange face, but said nothing. Knockout gave her a sympathetic look.

“They’re always like this,” he whispered. “All of them.”

“You’re the best!” Parker continued, grabbing Starscream’s arm and tugging him out the door. “C’mon, let’s go back! I like watching you paint!” 

“Of _course_ you do,” Starscream preened. “I’m  _ amazing! _ Come along, Knockout!” 

Knockout hesitantly followed them out, eyeing Soundwave warily as they passed him. The visored mech watched them, turning his helm to follow their path until it had rotated a full one hundred-eighty degrees.

_Nope_.

“Guys, wait up!” Called Knockout, scampering up to Starscream’s side. “He’s doing the  _ thing  _ again!” 

Starscream peeked back, grimaced, and pulled the medic closer to him.

“Safety in numbers!” He hissed. 

Parker, completely oblivious to Soundwave’s horrifying display of flexibility, continued to chatter.

“While you were gone, I got bored and painted swirls on my arm! Aren’t they pretty?” He said, waving his forearm in front of Starscream’s face. “I made them silver because that’s my favorite color, because  you’re  silver!” 

“You clearly have excellent taste,” Starscream said distractedly, patting Parker’s shoulder. “Let’s walk _faster_.” 

“Okay!” Parker chirped, skipping ahead. Knockout leaned closer to Starscream.

“Has Soundwave always been like that?” He whispered. The seeker nodded, optics haunted.

“When I first met him, he would only speak backwards.” Knockout made a distressed whine.

“Why is everybody here so  _ weird?_” He whimpered to himself. 

Starscream scooped up Parker, who had gotten distracted by a funny-looking rust patch on the wall, and casually threw him over his shoulder.

“I _know_, right?” He agreed, shaking his helm. “This place is a  _ circus!_”

“Whee!” Parker cheered. 

...

The next day found Knockout back in Starscream’s cell, although this time most of the Hippie Club was elsewhere. 

“Starscream?” He said, slouched against the wall. The seeker grunted. “I’m bored.” 

Starscream painted in careless little strokes, optics washed out from the lack of stimulation. 

“Mhm,” he said, staring into space. Knockout looked over to him.

“Hey, can I borrow that?” He asked, gesturing to the paint set-up. Starscream shrugged and set his paintbrush down.

“Meh,” he said, sliding off the stool and flopping face-first onto his berth. Knockout took that as permission to use the paints, and sat down. 

He removed the Starscream’s messy canvas and replaced it with a fresh one, moving very slowly and deliberately. He looked at it, sighed, and grabbed the dark blue.

A couple minutes later, Starscream peeked curiously at what he was painting, and tensed.

_ Breakdown. _

Knockout’s face was completely blank as he focused on his work, filling in the details of his dead partner’s profile with the same precision he applied to surgery. 

It was  _good_.

Starscream watched in silence. He wasn’t the most... _Socially literate_ person in the universe, but he still sensed that interrupting this would be gauche. It was peaceful.

... Until Knockout ran out of dark blue paint. He stared at the empty tube for a moment before shakily discarding it, and grabbed black and light blue to mix up a replacement. 

He finished, but froze as soon as the tip of his paintbrush hit the canvas. There was a long, heavy pause.

“It’s not the same,” he said, putting the paintbrush down. “The right color’s all gone.” Starscream blinked.

“You can keep mixing paint,” he suggested, trying to ignore the suffocating despair in his companion’s field. “You could get something pretty close to what you need.” 

“But it’s not  _right_,” Knockout insisted, turning to face him, voice cracking. “It’s not  _ enough! _ It’s _never_ going to be enough, and now the whole thing is ruined!” Starscream blinked.

“Um-”

“But if I _don’t_ do something, the whole thing’s unfinished and- and  _ empty!_” Knockout continued, visibly growing more distressed. “So, it’s horrible either way, because  _ nothing is enough to fix it_” He buried his face in his servos.

Starscream sighed and gently placed a servo on his companion’s shoulder. Knockout looked up at him hopefully, as if he was about to hand him all the answers to the universe. Starscream solemnly looked him dead in the optics.

“Knockout,” he said quietly, “it’s  just paint. ” 

Knockout’s face crumpled, and his vents let out a stuttering wheeze. Coolant began brimming in his optics.

“Why,” he choked out, “why are you  _ so stupid?_” He broke into sobs. 

Starscream recoiled as if he’d been burnt.

“Oh, dear,” he mumbled, scrambling for a way to make it stop. He grabbed the painting and shoved it under his berth, dusting his servos off proudly. “There, now its not a problem anymore!”

Knockout cried harder. 

_ Oops. _

Starscream floundered. There was _no way_ he was equipped to handle this.

“Um, here!” He picked Knockout up, laid him sideways on the berth, and covered his entire body with the blanket. “That will contain your disgrace while I gather reinforcements!” 

The pink, Knockout-shaped lump on the berth made a sad whining noise. Starscream fled, shuddering. 

Feelings were  _ horrid. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m this fic, I’m highkey projecting my adhd/autism onto Starscream, so he’s. Dense. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if enjoyed! :)


	28. The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Brain Cells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is stupid. All of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the awesome comments, they really made my day!

Starscream rushed into the common room in a panic, zeroing in on the Hippie Club.

“_Steve!_” He shouted frantically. “Steve, you have to help me!” The vehicons were at his side in an instant.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steve asked, unconsciously grabbing his partner by the shoulders and checking him for injuries. Starscream batted him away.

“It’s not  _me_, it’s Knockout! He’s...  _ Malfunctioning!_” Steve stepped back, tilting his helm. 

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t he go to the med-bay for-” Starscream waved him off with a huff.

“No, no-  _ emotionally  _ malfunctioning!” Steve’s visor brightened in comprehension. “It’s  _awful_- he’s getting it all over my cell! You have to fix him before it  _ spreads  _ and starts  _ infecting _people!” Steve sighed.

“Okay,” he said. “How about you get him a cube? It might make him feel better.” Starscream nodded, grabbing the Brendas and dragging them off to the dispensary. Steve gestured to John. “C’mon, you’re the least stupid person in the room.” 

He privately acknowledged that he probably deserved it when Macy kicked him for that comment.

...

Bulkhead stared uncomfortably at the monitor as Knockout had an emotional meltdown. 

He felt like an afthead.

Sure, Knockout was kind of a douche, and he hated Breakdown, but still. Grieving sucked, and he was intruding on it.

He felt the need to make it up to him somehow, but he didn’t know how to do that without exposing the fact that he’d been spying on Starscream.

He made the resolve to buy some polish after he figured out how to get it to Knockout without giving his team away.

...

Steve and John stood awkwardly in front of the sad pink bundle on Starscream’s berth. 

“Hey, buddy,” Steve tried, reaching out to pat Knockout on what looked like his shoulder. “Everything okay?” 

The blanket shifted, and a pair of angry red optics glared out of the hole Starscream had cut in it for his wings. 

“_Frag off,_” Knockout grumbled, going back into hiding. 

Steve raised his servos in a gesture of surrender, looking to John for help. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and leaned closer to Steve.

“I could drug him,” she whispered. “Makes those bad feelings just _float away!_” If Steve had had a mouth, he would have been gaping.

“ _ No, _ ” he hissed. “That’s- _no_. What the _frag_, John?!” She shrugged.

“Hey, I’m just saying. We can put that on the back burner, if you’d like.” Steve buried his face in his servos.

“Remind me to apologize to Macy,” he muttered. 

“Fuel acquired!” Starscream loudly declared, striding into the cell with a cube. “What’s the strategy?” 

The Brendas trailed in behind him, looking two different shades of exasperated. Steve gingerly took the cube, eyeing Starscream strangely. 

“Um,” he said. “Maybe you could go grab more blankets?”

“Is there any specification required?” Starscream asked, tone more professional than sympathetic. Steve shrugged.

“No? Just any blankets will do,” he replied, looking to the Brendas for help. Weird Brenda had her face pressed into her servos, and Shy Brenda just looked finished. 

Starscream nodded with the same businesslike curtness he had used for mission briefings during the war and dragged Shy Brenda away in search of the blankets. 

“Oh my god,” muttered Weird Brenda. “I told him that this is a really stupid thing to get worked up about, given that he fought in a war, and... Well.” Steve sighed and rubbed at his visor.

“We’ll just have to keep him occupied, then,” he muttered, before turning around to the depressed blanket-bundle. He placed the fuel next to where he figured Knockout’s helm would be. 

“We got you some energon,” he said softly. Knockout’s optics appeared again, and a servo reached out to pull the cube under the blanket. 

“Go away now,” he grumbled. Steve stepped back slowly, servos raised.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll be right over here if you need anything.” He gestured to the other side of the cell. Knockout stared at him a moment, and then wordlessly retreated back into the pink abyss. 

“Hoo, boy,” murmured John. 

...

Commencing Operation: Blanket.

Objective: Eradicate the infection of disgusting feelings.

Starscream marched down the hall with Shy Brenda in tow, pursuing his goal with single-minded determination. He found a corner, stopped, and turned to his unwilling accomplice.

“I have a plan,” he announced. Shy Brenda sighed.

“Starscream,” they said tiredly, “we can just grab some blankets from some of our cells.” Starscream shook his helm. 

“Absolutely not! We’re taking every blanket in the facility!” He began pacing. “We need to maximize the potential comfort in order to increase our chances of success. The more we take, the better!” 

Shy Brenda just stared at him. Starscream took that as invitation to continue, placing his servos on his hips.

“I need you to scout out the entire cell block and report back to me with your findings. We will strike the unoccupied cells first, and lure the rest away afterwards. Meet me at this location as soon as you have finished. Any questions?” Shy Brenda in-vented slowly.

“Just one: when we get in trouble for this, how much of the blame are you going to put on me?” Starscream looked like he wanted to protest the assumption that they’d fail, but then thought about it.

“That remains to be determined,” he decided. “Now, shoo!” 

Shy Brenda reluctantly obeyed, rolling their optics behind their visor. 

“I’m beginning to remember why I used to _hate_ him,” they muttered.

...

Thirty minutes, three scuffles, and two pairs of stasis cuffs later, Starscream and Shy Brenda sat before Ultra Magnus in his office. The stolen blankets had been confiscated and piled in the corner, waiting to be redistributed.

“I can explain,” Starscream said, chuckling nervously. “It’s, um. It’s all _their_ fault!” He gestured with his bound servos to Shy Brenda, who simply gave a long-suffering sigh. 

“Oh my  _ god,_” they murmured, slouching tiredly in their seat. Starscream nodded emphatically.

“It’s true! This was all their idea! _They’re_ the mastermind behind this _brilliant_ scheme!” He made a poor attempt to look innocent. “They forced me to go along with it! I didn’t want to, but I had _no choice!_” 

Ultra Magnus vented deeply, closing his optics as if he were mentally counting to ten. He rose stiffly, placing his servos on the desk, and gave the seeker a very stern look. 

“Starscream,” he said, “you are a menace to society, and I hate you. _Personally_.” 

Starscream dropped his unconvincing façade and scowled.

“And you look like a brick grew legs and walked into a trash compactor,” he snapped. “And, you know what? I’m _glad_ I’m a menace to this society, because I hate it! This society _sucks! _So, there!” 

Shy Brenda dropped their helm onto the desk with a  thud.

...

“Hey, Knockout,” said Gerald, peering into Starscream’s cell. The grumpy pink lump on the berth grunted. “Um, I was in the mail room, and I found a package for you!” 

The blanket shifted, and Knockout finally emerged. His face had tracks of dried coolant streaming down it, and he looked like he was going to strangle someone. 

“Give it.” 

He held out his servos and made grabbing motions. Gerald hesitantly dropped the package into his grasp and stepped back, shuffling out of stabbing range. 

Knockout sat down on the berth and opened the box, optics widening in surprise.

“Huh,” he said, pulling out a small tin of fancy polish. He placed it next to him and pulled out a note.

‘_Sorry for running you over with a train that one time._

_ Xoxo _

_-The Humans (all of them)_.’

Knockout blinked and read it again, furrowing his optical ridges.

“What the  _fuck_,” he whispered. 

Behind the monitor, Bulkhead gave himself a pat on the back for a job well done. 

_ Nailed it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus H. Christ, guys.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	29. Timeout For Starscream :(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is a pain in the ass, and has a weird way of thinking about social interactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thanks so much for all those awesome comments, they always brighten my day! This one’s short, but here it is!
> 
> Edit: I changed the name of the chapter lmao

It was a solemn processional that led Starscream back to his cell. The closer they got, the tender he became. 

“Are- are you certain this is _really_ necessary?” Starscream chuckled nervously. “I mean, they were just a few _measly blankets_, I’m sure we can talk this out like rational mechs!” 

Ultra Magnus stopped the small posse and turned around to face Starscream, entirely unamused. 

“You nullified that option when you implied that I earned my position through uncouth acts of interface,” he said darkly. “And then you _smelted_ it _completely_ when you called my carrier ‘shareware.’” 

The two guards escorting them winced at that. Starscream’s wings flattened, and he laughed nervously.

“Did  _ I _ say that? My mistake.” Ultra Magnus stared at him impassively, then turned back around to lead him to his cell. 

When they reached their destination, the guards had to shoo away Steve, John, Weird Brenda, and an oddly shiny Knockout. 

“What did you  _ do?!_” Hissed Steve incredulously, pressing his servos to his faceplate. Starscream scowled at him.

“My _best!_” He snapped. Ultra Magnus shoved him in the cell, turned off the lights, and locked the door.

“You can come out tomorrow morning,” he said, and left. 

Starscream threw a tube of paint at the wall with a scream of rage.

...

Several hours later, Starscream paced his locked cell, stewing in his anger.

“The  _ nerve  _ of that half-clocked, oversized, discount Optimus Prime!” He ranted. “I have  _ killed  _ people for less!”

_ Pivot turn. _

“Who does he even think he _is_, with his big stupid shoulders and big dumb face?! I’ll bet he likes  _ dirt_, the giant ground-goblin!” 

_ Pivot turn. _

“I’ll bet his carrier really  _ was  _ share-ware!” 

_ Pivot turn.  _

“Maybe I’ll _kill him!_ Yes, that sounds like an _excellent_ plan- I’ll kill him and _steal_ all his digits!” 

_ Pivot turn. _

“And everyone will look at his ugly cadaver and wonder ‘ _ oh my, whatever happened to his servos? _ ’”

_ Pivot turn. _

“And then they’ll do an _autopsy_ and find them all  _ shoved _ up his _giant, gaping-_”

_ Knock, knock. _

“Mealtime,” said a guard. A square-shaped slot opened in the door, and a cube was pushed through. 

“Wait,” said Starscream, running up to the hole and peeking through it, “does it have magnesium in it?” 

The guard paused, and looked down to him.

“Um, no?” He said. Starscream made a noise of frustration and shoved the cube back through the door.

“Bring it back with _at least_ two scoops,” he demanded, scarcely visible but for a pair of angry-looking optics. 

The guard pushed the energon back into the cell.

“No,” he said. The cube plopped out again. 

“I’m not having it, then,” Starscream snapped,  _ plunking  _ himself down right next to the slot. 

The guard tried to put the cube back, but a pair of spindly servos blocked it from entering the cell. He huffed and stood up. 

“Fine,” he snapped, “I guess you can _starve_, then.” He went to close the slot, but a servo reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Starscream cautioned, leering at him from the darkness. “I’ve read my rights- at least one full cube of energon a day. If you don’t let me eat, you could _lose your job._”

The guard shivered, trying weakly to pull away. Starscream’s claws pierced the vulnerable mesh of his wrist-joints, stopping him in his tracks.  


Logically, he knew that Starscream could get in a heap of trouble for this, but he didn’t move. Something instinctual told him to remain perfectly still- he felt like a prey animal.

“Wouldn’t that be a _shame?_” Starscream purred. The guard struggled to vent.

“I’ll- I’ll get you some magnesium,” he stammered. Starscream abruptly released his wrist.

“Good mech,” he said. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” 

The guard didn’t answer, opting to scurry away.

...

When he got to the dispensary, the guard felt like an idiot. 

Starscream couldn’t hurt him! Leave the cube in there long enough, and he’d be desperate enough to drink it. 

But, then again... This _was _ Starscream . Something told the guard that this was a hill he’d be willing to die on out of spite. 

_ Dammit. _

Best not to risk it. He headed to the tubs of additives. He paused, getting an idea.

He proceeded to shovel seven scoopfuls of magnesium into Starscream’s cube.

...

When the guard returned to the cell, he shoved the cube roughly through the slot.

“There,” he snapped. “You’re fragging  _welcome_.” He paused, listening to the seeker scramble to the door in a haste.

“Be  _careful_, you oaf! This is a  _ volatile substance__-_ oh.” The guard grinned. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked smugly. “ Too _sweet?_ ”

“No, actually,” said Starscream. “It’s- it’s  perfect.” His optics peered through the slot again, looking at the bewildered guard.

“You’re messing with me,” he said. “Seriously?  _ Seven scoops?_” Starscream silently regarded him for a moment.

“I suppose I owe you a favor,” he murmured. The guard blinked. 

“What?” The optics bobbed up and down, signifying that Starscream was nodding.

“Yes,  _ a  _ favor. Singular.  _ One. _ Don’t get too cocky.” The guard squinted. 

“Um. Thank you?” He tried. Starscream’s optics narrowed.

“_Ew_. Put those feelings back where they came from- this is a  _transaction_,” he stressed. The guard furrowed his optical ridges.

“Alright?” A thin servo appeared out of the darkness and waved dismissively at him.

“I have no more need of you, shoo!”

The guard gladly obeyed, wondering what kind of interaction he’d just participated in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is the kind of guy that drinks straight coffee creamer and pours half a bottle of chocolate syrup on his ice cream. No, I will not accept criticism on this headcanon, fuck you. (With love, of course). 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


	30. Enter Shockwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is either really brave, or really stupid. Shockwave is here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! 
> 
> So. I may or may not have forgotten about Shockwave- but I’ve been wondering for awhile how I was going to stick him in here. He’s pissy.

The next morning, Starscream trudged out of his cell looking more like he’d been lost in space for twenty years than given timeout. 

He hadn’t recharged in over a cycle and a half, his pedes were covered in paint from stepping on the tubes he’d left laying haphazardly across the floor of his cell, and his digits were scratchy and dull from clawing at the door. 

He didn’t deal well with confined spaces for prolonged periods of time. 

He ambled to the dispensary, making a beeline for the Hippie Club and faceplanting on the table next to Steve. 

“_Myeh_,” he whined. 

“Don’t give me that,” said Steve, patting his helm. “Nobody told you to  steal anything.” 

Starscream glared at him out of the corner of his optic.

“ _Traitor_, ” he hissed. Steve was unimpressed.

“Uh-huh,” he said flatly, “says the mech who threw Shy Brenda under the bus. I think you owe them an apology.” Starscream snorted.

“Never going to happen,” he muttered into the table. “Someone get me a cube, I’m exhausted.” 

Nobody moved. 

“If you’re going to be aft, you can get it yourself,” said Weird Brenda. The rest of the vehicons hummed in agreement.

Starscream gave them all a flat glare.

“Fine, then,” he snapped. “I don’t need you all, anyway.” 

He stomped off the the energon dispenser, muttering about ‘useless incompetents’ and ‘betrayal.’ As he was filling his cube, a large shadow fell over him. He stiffened.

“Starscream.” 

No. _ Impossible.  _

“... Ah,” said Starscream, slowly turning to face the source of the uncomfortably familiar voice. His wings fell against his back. “Shockwave. You are... _Alive?_” 

Shockwave loomed over him.

“Clearly,” he intoned darkly. Starscream pressed himself against the wall and tittered nervously.

“How...  _ Unexpected_.” His voice cracked. “Um. You were in an  _ exploding space bridge._” 

“In which you left me to  die,” Shockwave snapped. Starscream blinked and furrowed his optical ridges. 

“Wait- I beg your pardon?” He asked, wings springing back up in confusion. 

Abruptly, Shockwave’s fist slammed into the wall next to Starscream’s helm.

“Then.  _ Beg._” He growled. Starscream squeaked fearfully.

Before the situation could escalate further, a slender pair of servos cut between the two of them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy- step the frag back,” Steve snapped. 

Weird Brenda grabbed hold of Starscream’s arm and pulled him into the swarm.

“Interesting,” Shockwave said, stepping into Steve’s personal space. “But this matter does not concern you.” 

“Au contraire,” said Steve, cocking his helm. “Anything that concerns him concerns  us .” He gestured sharply to Starscream with his thumb-digit.

“Is that so?” Shockwave deadpanned. 

“Yes,” Steve snapped. “Servos off. No touchy.” 

“What do you intend to do to stop me?” Shockwave asked. Steve jutted out his chin stubbornly.

“Something that’ll get me outfitted with stasis lock generators,” he said. Shockwave studied him a moment.

“How impudent,” he said at last. “Very well. Do not assume that this matter has been settled, however.”

Steve held his gaze and didn’t answer. Shockwave turned and left. 

“Forgot to tell you- they brought him in yesterday.” Steve said as he swiveled around, dramatically dusting off his servos. “Anyway, what was that about ‘not needing us?’ You should apologize to Shy Brenda.” Starscream scowled.

“_Fine_,” he snapped, looking around. “Shy Brenda, wherever you are, I am apologizing now.” 

“For _what?_” They asked from behind him. Starscream yelped.

“Um. Blaming the blanket-stealing incident on you,” he replied awkwardly. Shy Brenda crossed their arms.

“And will it happen _again?_” Starscream blinked.

“I make no promises,” he said. Shy Brenda pressed their servo to their faceplate. 

“I guess that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” they muttered.

Knockout, who was seated at a nearby table, snorted.

“You guys are too nice,” he said, “I used to leave body parts outside his hab when he torqued me off.” Starscream gasped.

“You!” He squawked. “_You  _ were the one who left the creepy little mech with just a helm, pedes, and servos!”

Knockout burst into laughter, slapping the table.

“I- I named him ‘Little Frankenstein,’” he cackled. 

“You’re  _horrible_,” Starscream exclaimed. “It was all  welded together! ” Knockout just kept laughing.

“That’s... Demented,” muttered Shy Brenda. Steve tapped his chin thoughtfully. 

“Actually, that gives me an idea,” he said. “Starscream! Let’s head back to my cell.” 

...

“You spoke to Starscream,” Megatron said, idly watching Shockwave take a seat at his table. 

“Indeed, Lord Megatron,” the scientist replied. “Your assessment of his identity crisis was accurate.” Megatron hummed thoughtfully.

“Yes. It was my hope that you would talk some sense into him- how  _ unfortunate  _ that his cabal of idiots interrupted you,” he growled. Shockwave’s finials twitched thoughtfully.

“Logically, he would need to be separated from them if you were to successfully  _ persuade _ him,” Shockwave said. “A pity they seem so _attached_.” 

Megatron lifted his sipped his cube, watching Starscream interact with his group of ‘minions’ over its rim.

“Yes,” he purred. “A pity, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Megatron? He’s here, too- plotting.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	31. Divide and Conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Starscream plot. Shockwave is a manipulate asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks for the comments, they’re my primary motivating factor!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new chapter! :)

“Okay,” said Steve, once he and Starscream had arrived at his cell. “You said you like to keep _trophies_, right?”

“... _Yes_,” Starscream replied warily, cocking an optical ridge.

Steve clapped his servos excitedly.

“Excellent!” He squealed. “Are they still all in your secret subspace pocket?” 

Starscream put his helm in his servos with a groan.

“Yes,” he muttered. “I never got around to finding a place to put them! Primus, it’s been  _millions of years_...” Steve’s visor brightened excitedly. 

“Oo, I think I know what we can do with them!” He said giddily, field alight with mischief. “First, I need to know what we’re working with, though.” 

With a self-conscious huff, Starscream opened his subspace...

... Loudly releasing a torrent of body parts in a heap on the floor. Steve stiffened and scurried to the door to make sure no one had heard. Fortunately, the coast was clear. He turned back around to assess the pile.

“... _Frag_,” he said. “That’s a  _ lot  _ of digits.” 

“They’re easy to remove!” Starscream snapped, shifting unsteadily on his pedes. “I forgot how much they weighed me down.” 

Steve began sifting through the body parts, completely unfazed at some of the more mangled ones.

“Starscream, are they  _ all  _ digits?” He asked. 

“Of course not!” Starscream replied haughtily. “I also have a couple severed heads, some optics, and maybe a few pedes in there, too!” Steve hummed in acknowledgement, tugging on something.

“ _ Whoa _ ,” he said, pulling an entire leg out of the pile. “Okay, that’s pretty impressive.” Starscream rolled his optics.

“What did you need them for, anyway?” He snapped impatiently. Steve perked up, placing it on the floor behind him.

“Oh, right! We’re going to make some  _ sculptures!_” Starscream blinked at him.

“That’s a little fragged up, don’t you think?” He asked, eyeing the hoard of body parts he’d amassed from the people he’d personally killed. Steve waved him off.

“Sweetspark, that’s the  _ point!_” He drawled, finding one of the severed heads and putting it to the side with the leg. “We’re leaving them in front of Shockwave and Megatron’s cells!” 

Starscream blinked, turning that over in his mind, and frowned.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said. “It could tip off Megatron to the fact that we’re conspiring against him- put him on his guard, you know.” Steve nodded.

“I see your point, but- Counterargument: their faces would be  _ so  _ fragging funny!” Starscream tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“You’re right... _Oh!_ I have a  _ better  _ plan!” He chuckled darkly, rubbing his servos together. “What if we got John to disable the cameras, and then put them  _ everywhere?_” 

Steve’s visor brightened.

“Oh, I  _ love  _ that! That’s so fragged up, you’re _brilliant!_” Starscream grinned at him, patting his cheek.

“Yes, yes- I know. Not to mention the fact that it’ll put the warden on high alert, making it less likely that Megatron and his rabble can escape!” He scowled. “Stupid, pit-bound Shockwave, always making things more complicated! He’s probably cooking up a jury-rigged set of explosives as we speak.” 

Steve paused, visor dimming.

“Slag, I hadn’t even thought about that,” he murmured. “But, wouldn’t we  _ want  _ them gone?” 

Starscream looked at him like he’d suggested they both roll around in an organic junkyard for fun.

“Are you  _ insane?_” He hissed. “No! If they can get out, then they can kill us all for being _traitors!_ We need to do everything we can to keep them trapped in here, where they can’t  _ do _ anything!” 

Steve nodded.

“Right. Okay, that makes sense.” He shivered. “Are we going to kill Shockwave, too?” 

Starscream had to think about that.

“Hm... Most likely,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s going to be more difficult, though. He’s not an idiot, unlike _Megatron_.” Steve groaned.

“I _hate_ that guy,” he whined. Starscream nodded sympathetically, patting his shoulder.

“He really is the worst,” he agreed, then perked up. “Oh, before we get started on our...  _art_, I need to go to the washracks. I spent the whole cycle tripping over  junk yesterday!” 

Steve stiffened.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “do you want me to go with you? Y’know, since...” He waved his servo awkwardly to elaborate. 

Starscream hesitated, and his field flashed briefly with fear before he could get it under control.

“I...” He straightened. “I’ll be fine, stop coddling me! Besides, you need to find a place to put all _this_.” He gestured to the scattered body parts. 

Steve stared at him uncertainly for a moment, but finally nodded.

“Alright,” he grumbled, and gently took Starscream’s face into his servos. “Just-  _ please  _ be careful, okay? I _hate_ it when you get hurt.” 

Starscream blinked. He could feel his spark pulsing faster in its chamber, sending waves of uncomfortable warmth throughout his frame.

“Um,” he said intelligently, and stepped out of Steve’s hold. “Sure. Goodbye.” He awkwardly patted one of Steve’s servos and made his escape.

...

The washracks were sparsely occupied- which was perfect for Starscream. Too few mechs to annoy him, but enough for there to be plenty of witnesses should anything happen.

Shockwave entered, and Starscream stiffened.

_ I may need those witnesses, _ he thought as the scientist caught sight of him.

“Starscream,” he greeted, taking the nozzle next to his. Starscream shrank back.

“Shockwave,” he muttered. “What a  _ pleasant surprise_.” The scientist regarded him thoughtfully.

“We never finished our discussion,” he said, taking a step closer to Starscream. “Given our current circumstances, however, I am unable to _pay you back in kind._” The seeker squirmed under his intense stare, chuckling nervously.

“Ah, yes. About that-” he swallowed anxiously. “- well. You _must_ understand, I did  _ truly _ believe you were dead, because. Well. It was a  _ spacebridge _ _ explosion! _Those aren’t typically survivable, you know.” 

Shockwave appeared to think about that, which was promising. 

“I suppose that is a logical argument,” he conceded. Starscream perked up at that, nodding furiously.

“Oh, _yes_\- we were all so  _ devastated!_” He donned a very unconvincing sympathetic expression. “I terminated the Autobot, Cliffjumper- you remember him, don’t you? The annoying red one?- yes, I  _ personally _ snuffed his spark in _your_ honor!” 

Shockwave’s finials canted back, but he did not otherwise express his ire.

“I see,” he said flatly. 

He turned on the nozzle and stood under the cold spray of solvent, ending the conversation. Starscream shivered at the stray drops that landed on his frame, and turned the knob on his nozzle to its warmest setting. His wings fluttered slightly as the hot solvent washed over his plating. 

Shockwave stared at him.

“What?!” Starscream snapped, flaring his wings aggressively. Shockwave tilted his head ever so slightly, otherwise unmoving in his cold shower.

“Surely you understand that this will not last forever,” the scientist said. Starscream narrowed his optics, scrubbing at his plating. 

“The warm solvent? I am _aware_\- stop wasting my time with pointless small talk!” Shockwave continued to watch him eerily. 

“The war is far from over,” he continued, “and it would be illogical to grow _complacent_ here. Although, I must admit that your choice of followers was well thought out.” 

Starscream didn’t look up from his anxious scrubbing, but his wings were perked warily behind him.

“What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” He asked. 

Shockwave turned completely around until his back was facing the high-pressure spray of icy solvent spewing from the nozzle. He looked at Starscream again.

“Drones are the most logical choice if you want to amass a following very quickly,” Shockwave explained. “They have a limited understanding of social relations. I programmed them to imprint on the most  _ convenient _ authority to serve, naturally. It is not necessary to maintain a relationship with them, because they are not drawn to you by  _ affection _ or  _ fondness_.” 

Starscream felt his lines go cold, despite the steaming solvent pattering against his armor.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Yes, that is... A very efficient system.” 

“It is easier,” Shockwave agreed. “They _must _feel compelled to serve you, because they would otherwise be completely indifferent to your existence. I am certain you enjoy that aspect of their coding- it keeps their interactions short and simple.” 

Starscream stared at the wall with a neutral expression.

“Indeed,” he said, chuckling painfully. “That would be a  _ hassle_. Goodness, no- I’m  _ glad _ they don’t need to like me.” 

For some reason, despite his furious struggle to push his stupid feelings to the back of his mind, Starscream  _ hated  _ the idea that the only thing tethering his minions to him was a few strings of base coding. It was _stupid_. It didn’t _matter_ what they felt, so long as they got job done!

... And yet.

“I still consider your choice to separate from Lord Megatron to be inadvisable, however,” Shockwave said, interrupting Starscream’s reverie. “As _obnoxious_ as you tend to be, I cannot dent that you are a valuable asset to the Decepticon cause.” 

Starscream’s train of thought derailed completely, and he blinked rapidly as he tried to process that. He hadn’t heard such praise in a long, long time.

“I-  _ what?_” He squeaked, whipping around to face the scientist. Shockwave still didn’t move under the barrage of solvent.

“Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Managing without you would be frustrating- and I’m certain you do not wish to spend the rest of your _life_ in an  _ Autobot prison_.” 

Starscream didn’t answer, simply scrubbing half-heartedly at his frame. Shockwave turned back around and shut his spray off solvent off, and then faced Starscream fully.

“I would urge you to reconsider your choices,” he said. “Lord Megatron will be more lenient if you come _willingly_.” 

With that, he left. Starscream stared at his retreating back, conflicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave is totally lying, btw. He’s a liar. Except for the part about Starscream being useful, which is why he’s lying so damn hard.
> 
> Also, surprise! Starscream is so heavy because he hoards body parts he steals off his kills.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	32. Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream burns bridges and salts the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a fun chapter. Apologies in advance.

Starscream clenched his fists as he trudged back to Steve’s cell, familiar scowl in place to mask his uncertainty. 

Shockwave was clearly full of slag. Obviously. His minions were far too attached to him for it to be compulsory.

... But, they _did_ pledge their eternal allegiance to him as soon as he uttered ‘please.’ Not to mention the fact that they seemed... Well, rather sick of him. Perhaps what he’d thought was playful ribbing was actually an expression of dislike.

It was often difficult to tell, for him- but, hey! What did  that  matter? It was completely irrelevant to him whether or not his minions like him- they were simply _security_.

Definitely. 

And _Steve_... Steve always did what he thought would serve Starscream best, didn’t he? He was fairly unselfish in that- a bizarre notion. Perhaps he simply felt compelled to make him happy, and didn’t particularly enjoy Starscream’s company.

Starscream’s spark felt constricted as he spiraled further and further down into his paranoia. He shook his helm, shoving his disgusting sentimentality to the back of his mind.

Why had Shockwave tried to reason with him? Why had he insisted that Starscream’s skills were necessary? The scientist didn’t typically bother with such matters...

Which meant that he’d been put up to it by _Megatron_. 

... Which meant that Starscream was _wanted back_. In fact, that may have been the closest thing to an admission of Starscream’s usefulness that Megatron was ever going to give him.

The thought tugged at his spark- a part of him he’d failed to snuff out wanted that more than anything. He’d worked so hard for so long, he  deserved a little appreciation! 

He slowed to a stop, staring at the floor.

... But, Shockwave was probably lying. He would be a fool to come crawling back that easily- a desperate, pitiful _fool_.

Then again, why go through the trouble of bargaining if Megatron didn’t need him?

He perked back up and continued his walk to Steve’s cell.

This was a stroke of luck, wasn’t it? If he played his cards right, he could be back in Megatron’s good graces  and  out of this prison- he could  _ fly  _ again. 

His wings itched at the thought. 

Not to mention the  power  of his rank! The respect! No, he couldn’t waste this opportunity- but he had to tread carefully.

If he didn’t return to Megatron’s clutches, he might very well die, along with his frie-  _ followers_. Really, it was for the best- and it was high time he returned to  real life.

The pit forming in his tanks was an  _ excited  _ one. This was _definitely_ what he wanted to do.

...

Starscream and Steve sat across from one another on the floor in silence, crafting bizarre little creatures from the dead body parts. 

Steve had bribed John to give him a makeshift blowtorch, and he welded together what Starscream slowly, shakily constructed. 

“Hey,” he said, setting his tool to the side, “is everything okay? Did anything happen in the washracks?” 

Starscream froze like a deer in the headlights. Steve scooted closer to him, visor brightening with concern. 

“Starscream?” He asked. The seeker offlined his optics and set down his sculpture.

“Steve,” he said quietly. “I think this whole thing has been a terrible idea.” Steve’s field filled with confusion.

“Uh, okay,” he replied, “can you put all this back in your subspace?” 

Starscream shook his head, not looking at him.

“No, I meant this... _Entire debacle.” _He pulled his legs to his chest, wings drooping. “There’s no way this  _ joke _ of a prison is going to contain Megatron for much longer.” 

Steve’s field panged with hurt. Starscream tried not to let his own horror and dread seep into his expression.

“Hey... What are you saying?” Steve asked quietly. Starscream rose to his pedes, still avoiding Steve’s gaze.

“This was a...  fun  little _tryst_, I have to admit, but it’s time we returned to reality.”

Steve stood and touched Starscream’s shoulder.

“ _ What happened in the washracks? _ ” He asked. Starscream shrugged him off.

“Nothing  _happened_, I just came to my  senses. As should you.” He twisted his mouth. “Besides, it’s not as if we had anything _real_, anyway.”  


Steve stepped back.

“Starscream-”

“Steve,  _ please!_” The room fell silent. “I should done this ages ago, before it got this out of control. Don’t be an idiot.” 

He left, pretending he didn’t see coolant beginning to leak from Steve’s visor.

...

“Everybody out!” Starscream commanded as he entered his cell. “The Hippie Club is disbanded. Goodbye.” 

Everyone stared at him.

“Wait, what?” Weird Brenda asked. “_Why?_” Starscream set his jaw.

“It was a bad idea, and I’m ending it _now_,” he snapped. “I’ve tired of this foolishness. I recommend you reintegrate yourselves into the Decepticons. _Shoo_. I don’t _need_ you anymore.” He waved his servo dismissively, pointedly ignoring the horrible knot in his tanks and the feeling that he was making a mistake. He’d become far too complacent.

John marched up to him and jabbed a digit at his chest. Her field roiled with rage and hurt.

“Are you  _ fragging  _ kidding me?!” She snarled. “You absolute  _ glitch_. After everything we’ve done for you, you throw us away like  _garbage_.  I should have seen this coming. Come on, guys.” She beckoned to her fellows, and about half the vehicons followed her out.

Weird Brenda approached him hesitantly.

“Starscream,” she said softly, “this isn’t going to end well. Life under Megatron  _ isn’t sustainable_.” The seeker scowled.

“Shut up and leave me alone. Do you honestly think I would trust  _ your  _ judgement?” He poked at the scratched, faded glyph in the middle of her chest. 

Weird Brenda drew back, field alight with fury, and left without another word. The rest of the vehicons exited with her.

Knockout stood in the center of the large cell, seething.

“I know what this is about,” he said coldly. “And I  _hate you_.  You never deserved _anything_ you got from any of us, least of all  _Steve_.” 

He made for the door, but stopped as he passed Starscream. Abruptly, he struck him across the face, leaving shallow scratches in his wake. Starscream rounded on him.

“ _ You-! _ ” Knockout narrowed his optics.

“Since you seem to  _ love _ getting kicked around so much, I thought I’d give you a head-start,” he sneered. “Goodbye, Starscream.”

And then, he was alone.

Starscream looked to his pile of self-portraits in the corner, collecting dust.

Slowly, methodically, he pushed each and every one of them under the berth.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starscream: Y’all mind if I *snatches support system out from under everyone like a tablecloth*
> 
> In all seriousness, though- I fully anticipate my impending crucifixion at your hands. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Tell me how much you hate me in the comments. :)


	33. Aftermath of the Emotional Molotov Cocktail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues. Starscream definitely isn’t miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks for the continuing support, it’s my primary motivator! This chapter is also not very fun- warnings for abuse, violence, and general unpleasantness.

Starscream stood before the ugly thug guarding the washracks, more determined than he was afraid, despite the shaking of his servos.

“_You _ again?” The grounder sneered, twisting the scars on his face. Starscream held his gaze.

“Move aside,” he said. “I can and will _blind_ you!” 

The thug didn’t move. Starscream’s face contorted in frustration.

“_You-_”

“Ah, _Starscream_,” said Megatron, appearing in the doorway behind the guard. “I have been expecting you.” He grabbed the seeker by the arm and pulled him inside.

Abruptly, Starscream found himself pinned to the slick floor of the washracks by Megatron’s pede. 

“Give me  _ one  _ good reason I shouldn’t _crush_ here and now for your treachery,” Megatron growled. Starscream could feel the glass of his cockpit cracking as he put more weight on him, and a familiar stab of panic hit his spark.

“W-Wait!  _ Master!_” He wheezed, pawing feebly at Megatron’s ankle. The pressure let up somewhat.

“So, you have come to simper and _beg_,” the former warlord purred, and then doubled the force he was putting on the helpless mech beneath him. “Make it  _ good_.”

Starscream could feel his back-thruster denting as he was crushed into the floor, and his cooling fans roared from panic and exertion.

“Master,  _please_,” he choked out, and his optical feed glitched briefly. “I- I made a  _ mistake_\- I’m sorry- please don’t-” 

Megatron lifted his pede off of Starscream’s body, and the seeker slumped in relief as his vents were once again able to properly take in air. 

“You’re lucky I have need of your skills for our escape plan to work,” Megatron said, kicking Starscream onto his front. “Get up.We haven’t finished discussing the matter of your  _treachery_.” 

Starscream wobbled to his pedes.

“_Thank  _ _you_, master- thank-” he barely had time to catch Megatron’s smirk before he was smashed face-first into the wall.

...

The remains of the Hippie Club found Steve curled up on his berth, sobbing and clinging to a severed leg. The cell was littered with body parts.

“What the  _ frag_,” someone whispered. 

“Oh, Primus,” muttered Weird Brenda. She cautiously approached Steve. “Hey, sweetspark- you doing okay?” 

Steve threw a pede at her.

“ _ No! _ ” He shouted. “Go away!” 

Knockout nudged a severed digit with his pede. 

“Where’d all  _ this  _ come from?” He asked. Steve tightened his grip on the leg.

“It- it was Star-  _Star_-” he keened brokenly, burying his faceplate into the leg. “We were making _sculptures_.” 

Knockout blinked.

“Alright, then,” he said, stepping into the doorway. “I’ll just- stay over here. _Away_ from potential  _ rust infections_.”

Steve cried harder.

“We- we never got to use the  _ rust_,” he blubbered. Weird Brenda sighed heavily. 

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s hide all this scrap before the guards find it.” The vehicons began shoving everything under Steve’s berth.

When the time came to hide the leg, it took three of them to pry it out of Steve’s distraught clutches.

...

“You did  _ what?!_” The therapist exclaimed, pointing his servos at Starscream. The seeker sneered.

“I  _said_, I disbanded the Hippie Club and returned to Lord Megatron,” he snapped, unconsciously tracing a fresh weld on his chest. The therapist gawked.

“_Why  _ would you do something that _apocalyptically _ _ stupid?_” He shrilled. 

Starscream’s optics brightened.

“Stupid? _ Stupid?!_” He shrieked. “Do you want to know what is  _ stupid? _ Listening to a mech employed by the _Autobots!_ Torquing off a megalomaniac! Becoming  _ complacent!_” The therapist gawked.

“What-” Starscream continued,

“This isn’t  _stupid_, it’s  _damage control!_” He stood, casting a look at the therapist. “I will not be returning- I wouldn’t even if Megatron _hadn’t_ ordered me to stop seeing you.” 

He marched to the door. The therapist followed.

“Starscream, these sessions are  _mandatory_,” he said. “You can’t just  _stop_.” Starscream opened the door and stomped out, not looking back.

“Fragging  _ watch me!_” He called over his shoulder.

...

It had been two cycles since Starscream ‘came to his senses,’ and he’d never been more miserable in his life.

That was just as well- happiness usually meant deception. Something too good to be true. This way, Starscream  _ knew _ he wasn’t being lied to. 

He kept repeating the thought to himself as he sat next to Megatron in the dispensary, surrounded by mechs he hated. 

“... Starscream, you will assist Dreadwing in planting the bombs on the weakest wall,” Megatron said, and laid a heavy servo on the back of Starscream’s neck. He tried not to let his fear show in his field. “He will be there to  _ supervise _ you, in case you feel compelled to make another  _ error  in  judgement.”_

Soundwave’s shoulders shook in a silent laugh. Dreadwing nodded curtly.

“I will ensure that the  _ traitor _ does not commit any misdeeds, my lord,” he said, eyeing Starscream sternly. 

Starscream wanted to throttle something. 

“I will not fail you, Lord Megatron,” he grumbled. Megatron tightened his hold on the back of Starscream’s neck. The seeker clenched his jaw.

“See to it that you  _ don’t_,” the former warlord growled, before continuing his planning session.

Starscream, for once, wasn’t actually listening to anything he said at all. All of his willpower was directed into _not_ looking at the table at which his former followers were sitting.

He had learned his lesson two cycles ago, when he had stared a little too long at an obviously distraught Steve. It had tugged at his spark, no matter how much he tried to stomp his feelings down. Weird Brenda had noticed and given him a hateful, dim-visored glower. 

It made him feel awful in ways he didn’t want to think about. He hadn’t looked at them since. 

Suddenly, the dreadful weight of Megatron’s servo disappeared from the back of his neck. He blinked rapidly, looking to him for clarification.

“Go to your cell, and don’t do anything suspicious. The plan begins in _two days_,” Megatron ordered, pushing him towards the exit.

Starscream gladly took the opportunity to escape the horrible, tense atmosphere of the dispensary. 

...

That night, Starscream couldn’t recharge. The disgusting, painful, heavy feelings in his chest kept trying to escape. He wouldn’t let them.

Two million years ago, when his trine had been killed in action, Starscream hadn’t been able to function for a decacycle. He had spent all his time curled up in his habsuite, sobbing himself sick.

Megatron had quickly grown tired of his circus of self-pity, and had expressed that sentiment through a good, solid backhand into the wall and twenty minutes’ worth of reprimanding.

Starscream had sworn he would never allow himself to be incapacitated by such _useless_ sentiments again.

It was getting hard to keep that promise to himself. 

Finally, he sat up with a growl, and grabbed the paint supplies he’d shoved into a corner. He painted Steve all night long, clenching his jaw and deliberately ignoring the lump in his throat. 

Once dawn began to peek through his thin strip of a window, he shoved all the paintings under the berth.

  
He was doing the sensible thing. He _was_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbass bird is a mess. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, don’t forget to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! :)
> 
> (I promise it gets better, I can only write angst for so long before my brain turns everything back into a circus.)


	34. Starscream Continues to Be a Goddamn Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is a terrible liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support, even after the absolute nuke I dropped on this fic lmao (I’ve been sick for almost a week now, if you couldn’t tell)
> 
> I promise after this it gets better.
> 
> Warning: Abuse, Megatron, etc.

The former Hippie Club was clustered in the common room, collectively marinating in the dismal, depressing atmosphere.

“-I’m  _ telling _ you guys, something’s wrong with Starscream,” Steve insisted for the fifth time in two days. “He changed his mind so  _abruptly_, there’s _no way-_” Knockout slammed his servos on the table.

“Oh, _something’s _ wrong  with Screamer, alright,” he snapped. “He’s an  idiot  who doesn’t appreciate what other people  do  for him, and he throws away all the good things he has like  _garbage_.” He turned to Steve, expression hard. “He’s _not_ coming back. He’s _not_ being blackmailed. He  _doesn’t care_. Just  move on already, he _isn’t _ _ worth it!_” 

Steve rounded on him, visor flaring.

“You don’t even  _ know  _ him!” He snapped. “This- this is  _ weird!_” He looked to the rest of the table for support. “Come on, guys! You  have to see it!” 

He was met with expressions of derision or sympathy. Weird Brenda put a servo on his shoulder.

“Steve,” she said quietly, “you need to let this go.” He shrugged her off, fuming. 

“_No!_” He snapped. “No, I’m  not  giving up on him!” 

He pushed away from the table and stormed out.

“Idiot,” Knockout scoffed.

...

Starscream had decided that he hated every single one of his new colleagues. He tried to counter his grumpiness with obscene amounts of magnesium. 

Dreadwing, who was standing next to him, sneered.

“How  _disgusting_,” he muttered. Starscream ignored him and added another scoop.

Shockwave took notice.

“Overconsumption of additives can lead to tank cramps,” he advised condescendingly. 

Starscream looked him in the optics, took a heaping scoopful, and stuck it right in his mouth. 

It was  _awful_, but the gagging noises Dreadwing was making behind him were well worth it. Shockwave’s optic dimmed in incredulity.

“I don’t know what you are hoping to accomplish, Starscream,” he droned. “You are only going to make yourself ill.” 

Starscream continued to stare at him resolutely, and chewed.

It took all his considerable willpower not to purge.

...

When he returned to his cell, Starscream found Steve waiting for him. He froze.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked imperiously in a poor attempt to mask his inner conflict.

Steve approached him.

“The others all gave up on you,” he said softly, “but I  _ know _ you don’t want to do this.  Please  come back, Starscream.” 

Starscream’s spark  clenched. His wings dipped slowly.

“I...” he began, before remembering himself. “I mean- That’s  _ Commander  _ to you!” Steve’s posture crumpled.

“_Why_ are you doing this?” He asked brokenly. “I can tell you hate it. You’re always angry now, and you’re taking extra magnesium in the dispensary. Why do you think you have to do this?” 

Starscream swallowed the horrible, burning lump in his throat. 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He straightened indignantly. “Don’t presume to know my preferences or motivations!” Steve stepped closer.

“He’s _hurting_ you, now,” he said quietly. “I can see all the fresh weld marks. He’s hurting you so  _badly_. Why are you staying with him?” Starscream’s vents came quicker, and he clenched his jaw.

“_Out!_” He bellowed, pointing to the door. “Get  out, before I _feed_ you your own _innards!_” 

Steve skittered away fearfully, and a few minutes later, the cell closed for the night. Starscream slumped against the door.

_ It isn’t  _ _real,_ he thought to himself.  _ He doesn’t  _ really _ care. None of them do. And you don’t  need  them to. _

Just one more day of this torture, and then everything would be back to normal. He would be  _free_.

He  _ wanted  _ to be free. Of course he did. 

Even if he had more freedom now than he  _ ever _ did as Megatron’s second in command- in the ways that mattered most to him, at least.

No. _Nonsense_. He wanted  out.

He  _ did_.

...

That night, Starscream painted himself for the first time in months. It wasn’t a pretty picture- not even remotely flattering. It was horrible, violent, and borderline masochistic.

Somehow, it felt more a more complete and accurate portrayal than any of his older overblown testaments to an ego that only existed on the surface.

He scratched it out of its frame and threw the broken remains under the berth.

...

Optimus frowned at all the time that had been logged from the camera feed, and then looked at his team’s troubled faces.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. 

Smokescreen grimaced, and Arcee averted her gaze.

“It ain’t pretty,” Bulkhead unhelpfully supplied. Optimus nodded.

“Perhaps I will visit tomorrow to investigate,” he said. 

“What are you going to do about it?” Arcee asked. Optimus’s frown deepened.

“I do not know, at the present. I simply feel as if speaking to Starscream about this may provide us with answers,” he said.

...

Starscream hadn’t recharged in four days. His processor felt like it was simultaneously racing and struggling through sludge. 

The door to his cell opened, and he took a deep vent.

It was time to end this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	35. Starscream Comes to His Fucking Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream finally gets his hands on the brain cell. Steve didn’t get the memo.
> 
> WARNING: abuse! Violence! Horrible torment!!! This is the most brutal chapter in the fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your continued support! I’m fixing the Bull Shit, I promise.

The bombs weren’t very large- they all fit comfortably in Starscream’s clenched fist. 

“Remember,” Shockwave said, “plant them closely together so that the blast is substantial enough to break through the wall-”

“-But not  _ too _ close, so that as much of the wall is damaged as possible,” Starscream finished flatly. “I’m not  _ stupid_, Shockwave.” 

He pointedly ignored Dreadwing’s muttered ‘that’s debatable’ behind him. Shockwave’s optic flashed.

“I am simply assuring that you are aware of your responsibilities. You _cannot_ afford to fail,” he said. Dreadwing snorted.

“Remind me again why the  _ traitor _ has been entrusted with such responsibility?” He sneered. Shockwave’s finials flattened in annoyance.

“Starscream is the only one here with digits small enough to successfully activate the bombs, excepting Soundwave- but  he  is responsible for disabling the security systems,” he said. 

Starscream’s expression soured further. When Megatron had claimed that his ‘unique skillset’ would be necessary to enact their escape plan, he hadn’t known that he’d only been referring to his  servos . 

He tried not to think about what would happen to him once they escaped, if this pattern of disregard for his strengths continued. 

_ Just relax, and think of flying_, he thought. His wings twitched. It really had been  _ far  _ too long.

“ _ Fantastic _ ,” he snapped, subspacing the explosives. “Come along, Dreadwing- we must be in position when the security systems are deactivated.” 

Starscream exited, followed by his- for lack of a better term-  _babysitter_.

“I can’t  wait to get out of this dump,” he muttered, clenching his jaw against the deepening pit in his tanks.

...

Starscream paced. 

“How long does it take to disable some  _ fragging  _ cameras?!” He hissed. Dreadwing rolled his optics, leaning against the wall.

“It’s been  twenty minutes, you impatient little  _scraplet_,” he said. “You should have more faith in Lord Megatron.” 

Starscream grimaced.

_ I can’t  _ believe  _ I’ll be spending the foreseeable future with these idiots, _ he thought, then paused. His sleep-deprived processor connected all the dots, and suddenly everything clicked into place.

Oh,  _ scrap_.

Once this was overwith, he would be _stuck_ with Dreadwing, Soundwave, Shockwave- and  _Megatron_.

In a war that would never end. 

At the bottom of high command’s metaphorical food chain, despite his rank. 

Vulnerable to Megatron’s whims. 

Beholden to his orders. 

_ Alone. _

Starscream had to clench his jaw to remind himself not to scream.

_I fragged up_, he thought.  _ I fragged up, I fragged up. _

He’d be trading one prison for another. 

Slowly, he turned to Dreadwing. 

“You- you know,” he began nervously, “the resemblance between you and your _brother_ has always been- been  striking. ” 

Dreadwing pushed off the wall to loom over the smaller seeker. 

“You would do well,” he growled, “_not_ to bring up  Skyquake  again.” Starscream’s spark fluttered minutely, as it always did when a plan was falling into place.

“Terribly sorry, it’s just that- that you were  _ split-spark  _ _twins_, yes?” Dreadwing’s optics narrowed dangerously, but Starscream kept digging the hole deeper. “I have to wonder if you  felt  it when he was _reanimated_ with _Dark Energon_.” 

Dreadwing froze, and the only noise he made was the barely-audible hiss  of his ex-vents. 

“ _What_. ” Starscream took several steps back, giggling nervously.

“Oh, you- you haven’t  _heard?_” He gulped, steeling his nerves. “A _pity_, really. Has there been any _other_ available corpse, I would have chosen _them_, but. Well. He was  _ right there._” 

Even out of arms’ reach, Starscream could feel the blinding, murderous fury of Dreadwing’s field. 

“ _You_, ” the larger seeker roared. “ You _desecrated his body?!_ ” 

Starscream made his first good decision in four days, and chose that moment to book it. 

...

Ultra Magnus frowned at his datapad, reviewing the report Team Prime had submitted to him in order to inform him of Starscream’s threats to do him bodily harm.

He wasn’t surprised or particularly disturbed by this information- one didn’tbecome a warden by being easily intimidated, after all. He was, however, incredibly annoyed.

Starscream had made himself a source of annoyance for all the most dangerous inmates- and Ultra Magnus could have  sworn  he was doing it just to _spite_ him. The number of incident reports had  _ tripled _ ever since he’d pulled his little rebellion, and the descriptions ranged from nonsensical to downright outlandish. 

Naturally, all of that was thrust on  _ him  _ to rectify, and he was going insane.

It felt like all his life’s problems somehow led back to that obnoxious, pit-bound seeker.

Lack of available Cybertronian media for movie night? A result of Starscream’s rampage at the beginning of the war.

Megatron’s increasingly violent outbursts? All directed at Starscream. 

Shockwave’s temperamental behavior? _Starscream-related_. 

Not to mention that weird  _ orgy-cult _ he seemed to be running.

Starscream was everywhere. He was inescapable. Ultra Magnus saw Starscream in his bad fluxes, smirking and taunting in his obnoxious little voice.

Ultra Magnus could practically  _ hear  _ it now, a crescendoing scream like an air raid siren grating at his audials. 

_Wait_.

Ultra Magnus heard the  clang  of incoming pedesteps, and opened the door to his office to see the vexing cosmic punishment of a mech barreling straight towards him. 

“ _ Let me in! _ ” He shrieked. Behind him, Dreadwing rounded the corner with a roar.

“_Come back here and face _justice_, you _ _ coward!_” He bellowed. 

Ultra Magnus attempted to close the door, but Starscream  leapt the last stretch of hallway and skidded into his desk. He was at the warden’s side in a flash, servos scrabbling at the door controls.

“Shut the door, shut the door,  _ shut the door!_” He babbled, finding the correct button and hitting it several times just before Dreadwing slammed face-first into the thick metal. There was a muffled  clunk  outside as he knocked himself out.

Ultra Magnus gaped stupidly at the small dent the larger seeker had left in his _perfectly good door_, and turned to face the bane of his existence.

“What,” he said through gritted denta, “did you do  _ this  _ _time?_” 

Starscream’s expression turned even more panicked, and he abruptly unsubspaced several small explosives onto Ultra Magnus’s desk.

“There’s a problem,” the seeker said, pointing helplessly at the small pile he’d made. “Um. Yeah.” 

Immediately, Ultra Magnus transformed his blasters out and trained them on Starscream.

“Is this an attempt on my life?!” He shouted. It was Starscream’s turn to gape stupidly.

“What?  _ No!_” He waved his servos placatingly. “No- Megatron’s organized an escape attempt, and Soundwave is probably hacking into your security systems _as we speak._” 

If Ultra Mangus were capable, he would have blanched. 

...

“Is this  _ really  _ necessary?” Starscream asked, pouting at his stasis cuffs. The guard escorting him pushed him forward.

“Just a precaution- don’t take it personally,” he said, steering them towards the cell blocks. 

They cane upon the security room, which was surrounded by dead guards.

They both froze.

“Oh, Primus,” Starscream whimpered. 

Megatron appeared in the doorway, and looked him right in the optics.

“ _You_, ” he snarled, glaring hatefully with the power of a thousand supernovae. Starscream gulped.

“Um,” he said, “blame Dreadwing?”

The guard next to him was dead before he could reach for his stasis generator remote, spark chamber having been torn out of his gaping chassis. Starscream’s wings flattened.

“This was your  _ last chance, _ Starscream,” Megatron growled, grabbing the seeker by his jaw and pulling him forward, “and once again, you have proven yourself  _useless_.” 

Starscream shuddered, feeling his spark pulse with panic. His cooling fans activated to keep his internals from overheating from fear.

“Wait, master,  _ please! _ I can explain!” He spluttered, flinching as Megatron picked him up by his neck and held him at eye-level.

“There is no need,” the former warlord said darkly, just  barely  squeezing. “The cameras caught you running off to the  Autobot’s office. Did you honestly believe I would not learn of your  _ treachery?_” 

Starscream scrabbled weakly at the large servo encasing his neck, tittering nervously.

“Megatron,” he chuckled, digging his claws into the seams between the tyrant’s joints, “_master_. I  _ assure  _ you, this has all been a _misunderstanding!_”

Megatron’s grip continued to tighten, and his glare did not waver. Starscream’s legs dangled uselessly in the air. 

“Dreadwing  _ attacked  _ me! He’s lost his _mind!_ I simply ran to the warden’s office out of  panic!  I would  _ never  _ betray the Decepticons, especially not when you’ve been _so _ _ generous!_” 

Megatron’s expression didn’t change, so Starscream switched tactics. 

“Master,  _please_,” he begged, voice cracking. “Please don’t do this. I _promise_ I’ll do better, I can be useful! I- I wasn’t  _ thinking  _ straight-”

“You’re  _ never  _ thinking straight,” Megatron growled. 

Starscream’s visual feed glitched, and his processor felt sluggish as the flow of energon to his helm was slowly pinched off.

“_Wait_,” Starscream choked, “please don’t do this. Is this _really_ how you want it all to end? After _all this time_, everything I’ve  done for you, you want to just  _kill_ me?” 

Abruptly, Megatron’s grip loosened, but he did not let go. The former warlord chuckled.

“Tell me, what  have  you ever done for me, besides  _ hinder  _ _my success_?” Starscream’s frame slumped minutely in relief, having evaded immediate danger.

“At- at the beginning of the war, I killed everyone for you!” He stammered. “And- and then, for  _ millions  _ of years, I was your loyal _second in command!_ I’ve dedicated my  _ life  _ to the Decepticons!” 

Megatron paused at that.

“Really? An appeal to  _ sentiment?_” He deadpanned, leering dangerously at his captive. “You truly are an  _ idiot_. Let me tell you something.”

He leaned in close enough for Starscream to feel his tightly-held field, and the seeker’s senses were overwhelmed with his tormentor’s sadistic glee. His wings trembled. 

“I have  _ never _ cared about you at all- not even a  _ little _ ,” Megatron continued, showing off his serrated denta with a grin. “Your efforts mean  _ nothing _ to me. Your accomplishments have only served to keep you  _ interesting _ to have around. I broke you out of that prison because I have never met someone  _ easier _ to  manipulate in my _entire life_.” 

Starscream  hated  how much that hurt to hear. It felt like his spark was being cut to the core. 

Millions of years, and none of it meant a _thing_.

“W-what?” He croaked weakly, searching desperatelty for proof that Megatron was lying. “Why am I still alive, then?” 

Megatron’s sharp smile widened, sending chills down Starscream’s spinal struts.

“For your only redeeming quality, of course,” he purred. “You suffer so  _ entertainingly_, and I admit that I am at times too _self-indulgent._”

Starscream’s tanks felt like they were imploding. He couldn’t break optic contact with Megatron, completely fixated on the pitiless, sadistic glee relfected in the tyrant’s suffocating field. 

“You’re going to die,” Megatron said, mirroring the seeker’s train of thought, “and I’m going to enjoy it  _ immensely_.” 

Slowly, he began to crush Starscream’s neck cabling, causing errors and warnings to flood Starscream’s visual feed as he pawed uselessly at Megatron’s wrist. 

He could feel the energon flow to his helm slowly depleting, and without commands from his processor the rest of his frame began to still. He’d never felt so scared in his life.

He was going to _die_.

He was-

“You put him the  _ frag  _ down!” Interrupted a familiar voice. 

Megatron stopped what he was doing, but didn’t release his captive. The pressure on Starscream’s neck cabling abated somewhat, and his awareness of the situation returned.

Starscream’s lines turned to ice, and his optics went wider than saucers. 

_ No. _

“Who are  _ you _ to command me,  _ drone?_” Megatron asked flatly. 

Steve marched right up to the two of them, and, to Starscream’s increasing horror, came within grabbing distance of Megatron. 

_ No, no, no! _

“I’m Stevelyn,” Steve said, stepping over someone’s dead body, “and I’m gonna fragging  _ kill  _ you!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Dont forget to leave comments if you enjoyed, Merry Christmas/happy belated Hanukah/early kwanza/Yule/etc.!


	36. Steve is a Fucking Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad shit happens. Also, Knockout has an awkward day.
> 
> Warning: abuse, violence, etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!!! Thanks so much for your support, I love and appreciate you all!!! I’m almost done with this fic- a couple more chapters to go, in fact. 
> 
> I’ve never finished a project this big, and I wouldn’t have gotten here without all of you cheering me on. Thank you so much for reading!!!

Megatron dropped Starscream, and the seeker scrambled back into the wall. He shook his head vehemently at Steve, who ignored him.

“This is  _ amusing _ ,” Megatron said, snatching the vehicon up by the neck as he had with Starscream. “I’m going to enjoy  _ crushing  _ you for your audacity.” 

Instead of cowering, like a  _ sensible _ _ mech_, Steve lifted his chin impudently and jabbed his digit into one of the seams in Megatron’s chest. The warlord raised an optical ridge, but otherwise didn’t budge.

Starscream was rooted to the spot with fear, completely unable to move.

_ Please, no. _

“Get  _fragged_, ” Steve spat. 

“_You_ _ idiot_, ” Starscream wheezed before he could stop himself. Megatron glanced curiously at him, and then eyed the glyph on Steve’s chest.

“How curious,” he mused, “is this your little  _ favorite? _ ” 

Starscream could only stare in open-mouthed horror, paralyzed. It was all Megatron needed to answer his question. 

_ No! _

“You just never  _ learn _ , Starscream,” he purred.

With a grin, he crushed Steve’s neck.

...

The next three seconds felt like an eternity for Starscream. Time had stopped, and his processor was wading through coagulated motor oil.

His vocalizer glitched, and then he realized that he was screaming. 

Megatron was saying something, but he couldn’t process it- he was far too fixated on the growing puddle of energon pooling around Steve’s broken neck.

The contrast was stark- bright, glowing blue against dark metal.

No matter how many times he lost someone, Starscream still felt gutted whenever it happened again. It simply wasn’t something one could get used to, he supposed.

Steve’s visor was dimming, but remained online. 

_He’s still alive_, Starscream quickly realized,  _ there’s still time.  _ The revelation jolted him into action.

He scrambled over to Steve’s side and scooped him up. Distantly, he was aware of something grabbing at his wings, but he jerked sharply out of its hold and ran faster than he ever had in his life.

He didn’t even think about where he was going, simply following his instincts as he wove through the maze of corridors in the ancient, pre-war prison complex. 

Was he going to the medbay? Yes, he must have been- and it was this way, wasn’t it? 

He could hear the thundering pedesteps of Megatron behind him, growing more and more distant as he barreled recklesslydown the hall, pushing through crowds of mechs and guards indiscriminately.

He was thankful he’d ditched the body parts in his subspace- he hadn’t run this fast since the war began.

Suddenly, he crashed into something very solid. 

“Starscream?” Said Optimus Prime, holding up a servo to prevent the guards escorting him from piling on the seeker out of instinct. “What happened to your wings?” 

Starscream didn’t process any of what he said. 

“Megatron’s deactivated his stasis generators and he’s  trying to _kill me!_ ” He blurted hoarsely, clinging to Steve’s bleeding frame like a lifeline.

Optimus looked like he wanted to respond, but Megatron rounded the corner with a bellow, interrupting them. The Prime’s face-mask slid into place, and the guards adopted a defensive position behind him.

Starscream picked back up in his running, heedless of the brawl unfolding behind him. 

His servos cramped with the force he used to cling to Steve, and the vents in his neck strained under the damage Megatron had dealt them. He couldn’t feel his legs, which was probably a good thing- he didn’t want to know what kind of strain he was putting on his hip-joints.

He kept himself occupied with other such inane little musings that flitted across his mind as he barreled through the prison, deliberately ignoring the writhing, churning mass of  _ awfulness _ just below the surface of his conscious thoughts. 

It was like slapping a pain patch on the stump of a missing appendage- but if he stopped now, he wouldn’t be able to get back up. He kept running.

In his arms, he could feel Steve’s field weakening, and he pushed on with greater urgency. Time was running out.

...

Knockout finished welding together a massive gash across a guard’s back. The poor idiot was young, too inexperienced to be properly accustomed to the sort of violence one would expect from a prison full of notorious war criminals.

He was lucky he’d survived a head-on attack from Megatron, who’d been more concerned with paving the way for Soundwave to work his magic than causing excessive carnage. It was practically a miracle he was otherwise unscathed.

“Doc?” The bot whimpered, trying and failing to hide his relentlessly quaking servos. “How’s the rest of my squad? Are they going to be okay?”

... _Physically_, that was. Knockout put down the welder with a sigh. It’d been a long time since he’d last dealt with someone so new to trauma.

“Kid, they didn’t make it,” he said, cutting straight to the point. “You’re the only one we found alive over there.” 

The poor mech’s face crumpled, and his vents hitched with a sob. 

_ Oops _ . Time for damage control.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Knockout tried, awkwardly patting his helm. “You get _used_ to this sort of thing! There are plenty of people you can talk to about losing friends.” 

The guard just cried harder. Knockout blinked.

“Welp, I tried,” he muttered, pushing the bot off the medical berth and into the sea of similarly injured and traumatized mechs that crowded the medbay. “ _ Next! _ ” 

“Uh, hi?” Knockout froze and turned around. 

“Ah,” he said awkwardly. “_Dismember_. That’s. Um, that’s a nasty looking ouchie you’ve got there.” 

Dismember shifted awkwardly, pressing down on the temporary patch over the stump where his servo used to be. 

“Yep,” he mumbled. 

_Yay_.  This was going to be a fun repair job.

“ _ Knockout! _ ” Screeched  _ another _ familiar voice, belonging to a mech that the medic wanted to see even  _ less  _ than his ex.

A very haggard-looking Starscream pushed his way through the massive crowd, ignoring the shouts and glares left in his wake. His wings were near shredded, his neck was badly dented, and he was clutching what appeared to be Steve’s dead frame.

The vehicon’s dimming biolights flickered. Still alive, then.

“Knockout, _fix him!_” Starscream screeched, skidding to a stop next to the berth and gently placing Steve on it. “Fix him  _ now! _ ” 

Knockout immediately scanned the dying Vehicon, already noting the crushed neck cabling and rapidly depleting supply of energon. Something else popped up on-screen, and he cursed.

Starscream swayed on his pedes, watching the proceedings anxiously. 

“What?” He asked, optics going wide. “What’s wrong?  _ Knockout? _ ” 

Knockout ignored him, pushing the berth into a nearby nurse.

“Get him stabilized, and then get him into decontamination,” he ordered, using his ‘I-am-the-CMO-and-I-can-and-will-reformat-you-into-a-toilet’ tone, despite the fact that he wasn’t technically allowed to tell anyone there what to do. The nurse hastily obeyed.

“Knockout, what _happened?_” Starscream pressed, voice cracking. His optics were pale pink from exhaustion. “You have to- to  _fix_ him- ”

Knockout quickly turned the scanner on him, then sighed in relief and grabbed Starscream’s shoulders to steer him to the nearest unoccupied berth. 

“You’re clear. I need you to calm down,” he said. Starscream didn’t appear to be processing anything he said, and clung to Knockout’s arms like they were a lifeline.

“ _Please_, ” he wheezed, air blowing hot from his vents from the strain, “is Steve okay? Are you going to fix him?” 

Knockout huffed, pulling away.

“Starscream,” he said, planting a servo unspooling his hardline connector from his arm, “I need you to _lay down_. Your wings and neck are very badly damaged, and I’ll have to put you into stasis.” 

Starscream furrowed his optical ridges, looked back at his wings, and blinked.

“Huh. You- you’d think I would’ve felt that,” he slurred. “Those are really sensitive.” 

Before Knockout could plug in, Starscream collapsed onto the berth, blissfully unconscious. 

Dismember stood behind them awkwardly, shuffling his pedes.

“Sorry, big guy,” Knockout said, pointing to a pink medic across the room, “I’m _busy_\- you should go see Screwclamp.” 

Dismember complied.

_Well_, Knockout thought, getting into the uncomfortably familiar routine of repairing Starscream’s broken frame,  _ at least I don’t have to deal with that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed- thanks so much for reading! :)


	37. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath of The Bullshit™️.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! Thanks so much for all your awesome comments, they always make my day!
> 
> Here’s another one! :)

When Starscream awakened, he was on his front. His chemoreceptors tasted energon.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, you fragging idiot,” said Knockout from behind him. “I fixed you up again. You’re  _welcome_.” 

Starscream pushed himself up, noting the odd soreness in his hip joints. What had-?

_ Oh. _

The seeker immediately straightened.

“ _ Steve _ ,” he rasped, “where is he? Where is Steve? Is he alright?” 

Knockout sat on the empty berth next to him, idly filling out forms on his datapad.

“Funny, how you don’t appreciate him until he’s _dying_,” he said conversationally. Starscream faltered.

“_Dying?! _ He’s not _dead_, is he?” He attempted to sit up, but Knockout pushed him back down.

“_Do not  _ frag up your brand new welds,” he snapped. “And I don’t  _ know_. I sent him off to the emergency surgical ward.” Starscream stiffened.

“Oh,” he said, fighting the pit of dread pooling in his tanks. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, before Starscream remembered the rest of the day’s drama.

“What happened to the rest of the Decepticons?” He asked. “Did- did Megatron win?” Knockout snorted.

“Primus, no,” he chuckled. “They must have vastly underestimated the amount of soldiers at Prime’s disposal. They were all separated, too- I don’t know how they thought they would even get out of the _building!_” 

Starscream looked at the ground.

“That was actually my job,” he said quietly. “I betrayed Megatron and went to Ultra Magnus. I ruined the whole plan.” Knockout paused.

“Huh,” he said. “Why?”

“I remembered how much I  _ hate  _ him.” Starscream chuckled, then sagged. “... I fragged up.” 

Knockout finally looked up from his datapad, regarding the seeker curiously.

“Yeah,” he said, “you really did. A lot of us kind of needed that support group, and it really fragged off the others when you tried to take it away.” 

Starscream clenched his jaw, ignoring the stirrings of guilt slithering up from the back of his processor. 

“... Will they let me come back?” He asked, so softly that it was a wonder Knockout heard it at all. The medic set his datapad aside.

“Starscream,” he said, “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you: I have no idea, but I wouldn’t count on it. You really screwed us up the exhaust port, and it was a  _glitch move_. I’m still pretty mad at you, too.” 

Starscream didn’t say anything. 

Suddenly, the doors to the surgery ward slid open and admitted a lone nurse. He pushed a patient’s cot up next to Starscream’s and skittered off.

When Starscream’s optics fell upon his new neighbor, he felt like he’d been doused in icy solvent. 

“_No_,” he whimpered. 

Upon the berth, perfectly fixed up and horribly still, was Steve’s greyed out cadaver. It looked just like the bodies littering the battlefields he’d left behind, just like the rows upon rows of identical soldiers Shockwave had presented to Megatron at the bloodiest point in the war, created to die. 

Unremarkable.

_Empty_.

“Well, now you know how he’s doing,” Knockout drawled, picking his datapad back up. 

Starscream was paralyzed, unable to tear his optics off of Steve. He curled in on himself with a high whine, servos clawing berth beneath him and drawing up little shavings of metal.

“Uh, Starscream-” tried Knockout, but the seeker cut him off with a snarl.

“_Shut up!_” He bellowed, drawing the attention of th few remaining mechs in the medbay. “How could you possibly be so  _ flippant?! _ He’s  _dead_,  you afthead! He’s-” 

He cut himself off when his vocalizer glitched, blinking hard to dispel the coolant gathering in his traitorous optics. 

He hadn’t cried in two million years, but that didn’t make the steady flow of coolant chilling his face any less familiar.  The festering well of emotion he’d been suppressing for so long was boiling over, and he didn’t know how to  _make it stop_.

He opened his mouth to try to snap at the spectators to his humiliation, and instead choked out a sob. His will crumbled under the weight of his overwhelming grief, and the dam broke. Everything he’d bottled up over the millennia burst out in a torrent of loud, ugly grief. 

He cried.  _Hard_.

For the fact that he lost the war. For the fact that Megatron always fragged everything up. For the fact that he’d ruined his only chance at fixing himself. For getting the only person who even  _ liked  _ him killed. 

He slid off his berth and approached Steve’s prone frame, gasping and hiccuping. He reached a trembling servo to the vehicon’s faceplate, tracing it gently. 

Steve’s subdued field pulsed back as soon as it detected him. The seeker stilled. 

Slowly, sluggishly, Steve’s visor and biolights brightened. Starscream gaped.

“He’s still _alive_, stupid,” Knockout supplied helpfully. “I found some rust in his seams, so he had to get decontaminated. Why would we stick a  _ corpse _ in the  _ waiting room?_” 

Starscream just kept bawling, completely unable to turn off the waterworks.

...

The first thing Steve saw when he regained consciousness Starscream’s contorted, tear-stained countenance. 

“ _Steve_, ” he blubbered, falling into a fresh wave of sobbing. The vehicon sat up with a groan.

“ _ Hey _ ,” he cooed, “hey- what’s wrong?” He cupped Starscream’s face in his servos, and the seeker leaned into his touch.

“You- you  _ idiot!_” He keened, laying his trembling servos over Steve’s. “I  _ hate  _ you. I- I  hate-” 

Steve silenced him with a kiss. Starscream melted into it, heedless of the openly gawking medics and nurses around them. 

The vehicon pulled back, sliding his mouth-plate back into place. Starscream’s expression hardened, and he extricated himself from Steve’s hold.

“What  were you _thinking?!_” He demanded shrilly. “I thought you were  _ dead!_” Steve scratched at the back of his helm sheepishly. 

“Well, uh. I followed your strategy from earlier- ‘let him go at me and get the job done.’” He glanced around the medbay, noticing their audience. “The job being  _ keeping you alive__,_ of course,” he added loudly. 

Starscream’s optics widened.

“_You!_” He squawked. “You absolute  _ buffoon!  _ You horrible little  _ genius!_” Steve reclined on the berth, crossing his arms smugly.

“I learned from the best,” he said. Starscream’s wings dipped in embarrassment, and he averted his gaze.

“Cheeky little nuisance,” he grumbled. 

“Love you, too,” Steve teased, and pointed at one of Starscream’s servos. “May I?” 

The seeker rolled his optics, but nodded. Steve laced their digits together, and Starscream stared at their joined servos like they were going to turn into scraplets and bite him. 

He had a sudden realization, and opened his mouth to announce it-

Excited pedesteps clattered into the medbay, cutting him off.

“_Steve!_” Shouted Parker, bouncing cheerfully up to the other vehicon’s berthside. “You look  _ dead!_” 

The rest of the Hippie Club trailed in at a more subdued pace, murmuring anxiously. They caught sight of Starscream, tear-stained and clinging to Steve like a lifeline.

The seeker froze like a deer in the headlights, and he swore he could  feel  their judgemental gazes burning holes into his plating. Steve squeezed his servo.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “I got Starscream back.”

“Uh-huh,” said John, visor dimming icily. “Have you?” 

Starscream’s plating clamped down on his protoform, and he laughed nervously.

“How- how _funny_ to see you all here,” he blabbered, shrinking under the weight of thirty angry fields crackling in the air. “It’s been awhile!”

“Not long enough,” Daniel snapped. Starscream’s wings flattened. 

“Oh, well, you see-” he smiled unconvincingly. “Um. I’m...  _ Sorry?_” He trailed off into a squeak, trying not to panic and climb the walls with his claws. 

The vehicons, sans Steve, all groaned in unison. 

“Oh,  _ come on!_” John shouted at the ceiling. “You can’t _do_ that, I’m still  mad  at you!” Knockout glanced between the frustrated vehicons and Starscream.

“Wait, what?” He asked. “What am I missing? What’s wrong?” 

Parker jumped the berth and captured Starscream in a full-body hug, ignoring the seeker’s protests.

“Yay! You’re back!” He cheered. Weird Brenda sidled up to Knockout. 

“He said ‘sorry,’ so we have to forgive him,” she said resignedly. Knockout furrowed his optical ridges.

“No, you don’t?” He said. Weird Brenda patted his shoulder condescendingly.

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” she sighed. “That’s not the way the world works. I mean, he didn’t even have to be  _ told  _ to apologize!” 

Knockout squinted at her. 

“_What?_” He whispered tiredly. Steve nodded.

“Them’s the rules,” he said. 

Starscream, meanwhile, had been reluctantly dogpiled by the remaining vehicons in a stifling group hug, squawking and flailing like a coked-up flamingo. 

Life had returned to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Don’t forget to leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed! :)))


	38. Optimus Ex Machina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus un-fucks it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!! Happy new year!
> 
> Thanks so much for your continued support, and sorry for taking so long to update! (Sertraline withdrawal is Interesting)
> 
> After this, there are two more chapters- thanks so much for sticking with me for this fic!

When Optimus entered the cell, Megatron was slumped against the far wall. The former warlord glared tiredly at him, servos fisted in the manacles that kept him shackled to the ground.

The Prime’s spark clenched at the sight.

“Megatron,” he greeted. The former despot grinned slowly, showing off his serrated denta.

“ _Prime_, ” he purred, sitting up. “Couldn’t stay away, could you? You can only ignore me for so long- we’re two halves of a _whole_, you and I-”

“No,” Optimus interrupted tiredly. “I came to say goodbye.” Megatron’s face fell in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He snapped. “Have you finally worked up the courage to kill me? Typical  _ cowardice_\- terminating a mech while he’s bound and at your mercy!” 

“I am not here to kill you,” Optimus said evenly, and gave a deep vent. “No. Ten guards are  _ dead _ because of my inability to put you out of commission. I am rectifying my mistake.” 

Megatron’s booming laughter between the cramped walls of the cell, surrounding Optimus. Smothering him.

“Even now, you still can’t get the job done!” He smirked nastily. “How many mechs have been _killed_ as a result of your weakness? How many cities _razed?_” His expression darkened into a scowl. “ _Pathetic_. ”   
  


Optimus regarded him for a moment, and sank to his knees, putting them at optic-level.

“Perhaps you are correct,” he said, neutral expression unwavering. “I thought- foolishly- that you would come to see reason. That you would realize how far from your original intentions you had strayed. That we could once again be _friends_, like we were so long ago.” 

Megatron leaned back against the wall lazily, eyeing his nemesis.

“Foolish, indeed,” he sneered. “You have  always been such a  _ soft-spark_.” Optimus clenched his jaw.

“I have given you _chance after chance_ to turn away from your path of destruction, and each time you have rejected me with vitriol.” He looked at his knees. “Perhaps you are capable of change, but I see now that you will never  _ want  _ to do so. You will continue to  hurt and  kill as long as you are permitted.”

He rose, clenching his servos at his sides to stop their shaking.

“I am taking that ability from you. You will  never  leave this cell again- and no one will be permitted to speak to you. I cannot risk losing another spark to your greed.” 

Megatron’s face darkened, and he yanked at his shackles.

“_Prime!_” He bellowed, lunging unsuccessfully for his nemesis. “This is not over! Do not think for _one _ _ moment  _ that this will last! I will  _kill_ you-”

“_You_ chose this path,” Optimus said, heedless of the former warlord’s rage. “Goodbye, Megatron.”

He left, locking the door behind him, deliberately ignoring the burning lump in his throat.

...

Starscream had never been the best at reading people, but the overwhelming sadness and resignation radiating off of Optimus Prime fell like a thick fog over the interrogation room as he entered. The seeker squirmed, thankful that his servos had been left un-cuffed.

“Prime,” he said awkwardly. “Why have you called me here?” 

Optimus sat down across from him and laced his digits together in an attempt to keep his composure.

“Had it not been for your actions, the war would have re-started,” he said. “You had everything to gain from aiding Megatron, and you still chose to do the right thing.” Starscream blinked.

“When you put it like that, it sounds much more heroic than it actually was,” he muttered, wings dipping in embarrassment. Optimus smiled faintly.

“Regardless, I am giving you another chance.” He swallowed painfully at that, glancing away for a brief moment. “Given that your actions have likely compromised your safety here, I have elected to give you parole.” 

_That_ hit Starscream like a ton of bricks. 

“What?” He said distantly, then stiffened. “Wait- just  _ me? _ Nobody else?” Optimus nodded hesitantly.

“Well, yes,” he replied. “Why do you ask?” Starscream sank into his chair a bit.

“Um. What if I told you that there were  other  inmates who have- erm. Chosen... the path of good?” He cringed inwardly.  _Autobot sentiments_.  “That is to say, they showed me the... Uh, the  _light side_. Yes. Could they come with me?” Optimus tilted his helm.

“Are you talking about your friends?” He asked. Starscream’s face shriveled up at the wording. 

“Sure,” he said. “I mean, they are _also_ in danger! Just the other day, Steve almost  _ died! _ Surely, they could be permitted to come with me?” 

Optimus’s sadness seemed to deepen. 

“I am unsure about that,” he said. Starscream’s wings flattened in panic.

“Well, we’ve been the best behaved inmates in this prison!” He protested. “If you let them out, I promise we’ll be model citizens.  _ Please?_” Optimus sighed.

“I suppose your reasoning is sound,” he said. “You will all be held to very strict behavioral standards, as I’m sure you’re aware. And you will be required to attend regular appointments with your therapist.”

Starscream gawked.  _I can’t believe that that worked!_

“I would expect nothing less,” he said with a grin. 

...

“Minions,” Starscream said, posing dramatically in the doorway to his cell, “prepare to love me!” 

Thirty visors stared back at him, completely unimpressed. The seeker was undeterred, and he strutted in like a smug peacock.

“_Please  _ tell me you didn’t kill someone,” Shy Brenda muttered. Starscream grabbed them by the waist and spun them around, grinning like a maniac as they yelped in fear.

“Oh, I  _ did  _ kill,” he purred, setting them back down. “I killed all our prison sentences!” 

There was silence.

“Wait,” Knockout said, pushing out of the corner he was leaning into, “what?” 

Starscream did a little shimmy of happiness, giggling.

“I got us all parole~!” He sang. “By order of  _Optimus Prime_. You’re welcome.” 

The cell exploded into a furious din, and Starscream found himself assaulted on all sides by hugs from his overzealous followers. 

“You’re the  _ best!_”

“I forgive you for real, this time!”

“I would  _ die _ for you!” 

Starscream felt like is processor was phasing sideways through his helm at the sudden eruption of sensory information, and a pair of gray servos pushed through the cramped group hug.

“Break it up, people!” Steve said. “You know how he is with tight spaces!” 

The vehicons immediately stepped away with mumbled apologies, but Starscream was still grinning like an idiot.

“I can’t wait to _fly_ again!” He gushed, fluttering his wings. “I’m going to do _so_ many dangerous stunts!” 

“Baby,  _ please _ be careful,” Steve said, placing a gentle servo on Starscream’s shoulder, “that sounds bad for your health.” 

“If you make put you back together after doing something stupid  _again_, I’m going to weld your legs on _backwards_,” Knockout added, and then pressed a small tin of polish into the seeker’s servos. “Here, you earned it.” 

Starscream blinked.

“This is  _expensive_, where did you get it?” He asked incredulously. Knockout shrugged.

“The squishies felt bad about hitting me with a train, and I guess they turned into a... _H__ive mind_ or something? Organics are weird.” He made a dismissive gesture. Starscream frowned pensively at the polish.

“I see,” he muttered. “And, um. Thank you.” 

Knockout smiled awkwardly and gave him finger-guns, retreating back to his corner.

“All hail Starscream!” GroundBoy shouted, pumping a fist in the air.  The other vehicons began chanting with him.

_This is good_, Starscream thought, and his face began to hurt from smiling.  _ I could get used to this. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, don’t forget to leave comments if you enjoyed!


	39. Saying Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang wraps things up at the prison. Optimus is dramatic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, guys! This is the last chapter before the epilogue.

Knockout found Dismember in the same unmonitored hallway, stiff as a board.

“Hey there, big guy,” he said, waving awkwardly. The guard jolted in surprise.

“Oh! Uh... Hi?” He shuffled in place. “Do you need anything?” 

Knockout unsubspaced a severed leg, holding it out shyly.

“I’m getting parole tomorrow, and I wanted to part on good terms,” he said. “Here. I figured you’d appreciate it.” Dismember took the limb reverently, optics misting over.

“Whose is this?” He asked quietly. Knockout laughed nervously.

“I don’t know- I stole it,” he confessed. Dismember choked up and clutched it protectively to his chest.

“I’ll treasure it _forever_,” he promised, subspacing it, “and I’ll never forget you.” 

Knockout patted his arm sympathetically.

“You’ll find somebody,” he said. “Maybe in a dark alley in the middle of the night somewhere, or a creepy cult trying to summon the unholy destroyer of worlds. It’s not you, it’s me.” Dismember nodded tearfully.

“Good luck,” he said with a sniffle. “I hope you get your stuff sorted out.” Knockout smiled sadly. 

“You, too,” he replied. “Goodbye.” Dismember sniffled again, and waved.

“Goodbye,” he said. 

With that, they parted ways. 

...

“Attention, _idiots!_” Shouted Starscream, climbing onto a table in the common room. “You can  all  get fragged, because I’m taking my minions and going on parole tomorrow!” 

The various Decepticons scattered across the room glared at him with varying levels of disdain. Starscream, ever the professional, flipped them all off. The vehicons surrounding him all groaned.

“Baby, _please_,” Steve said, tugging at his ankle, “you’re going to get us put on some kind of hit-list.” Starscream shook him off.

“No,” he hissed back, “I’ve been holding this in for  _ four million years!_” 

“Oh, lord,” Shy Brenda muttered behind him. 

“I’ll bet you’re all feeling pretty stupid, now,” Starscream continued, cocking one of his hips. “Because I don’t like  _ any  _ of you! You all  _ suck!  _ Especially _ Megatron_, wherever he’s at- he is the  _ worst  _ strategist I have _ever met!_ Maybe if you’d been a little  _ nicer  _ to me, you could have come with!”

He pointed to all the annoyed faces across the room, lifting his chin imperiously.

“_I win! _ Stew! Stew in your shame!” He cried, then hopped off the table. “Anyway, that was all. As you were.” 

“Wow,” said John, crossing her arms. “_That _ was mature.” Starscream eyed her knowingly.

“I saw Shockwave in the corner,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. The vehicon stiffened, then grabbed him and Weird Brenda by the arms.

“Hey,  _ Shit-wave!_” She called, dragging them both across the room. “Remember when you tested the cortical psychic patch on me  _ fifty-seven times?  _ I do!” 

Knockout leaned towards Steve.

“Should we stop them?” He muttered. “This is a terrible idea.” 

“... The  _ worst dad ever!_” Continued John from across the room, sticking a digit in Shockwave’s face. The scientist’s finials were flatter than Knockout had ever seen them. “But you’ll never make me cry myself to recharge again, because I don’t _care_ about you anymore! Also, Weird Brenda and I have lots of really fragged-up sex, so now you have to picture it! One time, she shoved an  _ entire arm._..”

Steve shook his helm, watching them fondly.

“No,” he said. “Let them have this.” 

Knockout shrugged, then pulled out his datapad to record the spectacle. 

About a minute later, Starscream had to pick Weird Brenda and John both up under each arm and escape before Shockwave could strangle anyone. 

“I  also hate you!” The seeker called over his shoulder. “Have fun rusting in prison!” 

Shockwave bellowed in rage, and a bunch of horrific crunching and smashing noises sounded from the corner. The rest of the Hippie Club took that as their cue to leave. 

“We’re going to get _assassinated_,” muttered Knockout.

...

The next morning, Optimus was waiting for them outside the prison.

“Starscream,” he said, angling himself so that the dawn rose behind him dramatically. 

Starscream and Knockout, not possessing visors, had to squint from under their servos to see him properly. 

“Yes, hello,” the seeker greeted, unconsciously flapping his wings against the wind currents he’d been denied for so long. 

“Hi,” chorused the vehicons, waving with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Parker in particular took to jumping up and down like a caffeinated kindergartener. 

“You have all been given a second chance,” Optimus declared, placing his servos on his hips with his signature Serious Primely Expression of Severity. “I sincerely hope that you take the opportunity to become productive members of society in this new chapter of your lives. I have the utmost faith in all of you.” 

“Cool!” Said GroundBoy, flashing a thumbs-up.

“Yeah, thanks!” Gerald chirped. 

“Ultra Magnus has informed me that you will not be permitted back into his prison should you choose to continue on the path of destruction and evil,” Optimus continued, ignoring them, “so I request that you do not force me to construct another one.” 

The Prime turned around, gesturing at what was presumably a cityscape bathed in the blinding rays of Cybertron’s sun. Starscream couldn’t quite tell.

“This is the dawn of a new age in our history,” he said. “An age of peace, prosperity, and equality.”

“Can you hear what he’s saying?” Starscream whispered to Knockout. “I can’t understand him when he’s got his back to us.”

“... An age in which we relinquish the burdens of the past, and look toward the future with hope,” Optimus droned on, staring resolutely into the distance. “I believe that together, we can build a better society, and amend the mistakes of our predecessors.” 

Knockout shook his head at Starscream and shrugged. Shy Brenda stifled a yawn. 

“... It fills my spark with joy to see you all ready to join us in our quest to improve Cybertron for future generations. If there is anything you need my assistance with, I urge you to come to me...”

“Been there, done that,” muttered Weird Brenda. John had a sudden coughing fit.

“... And I am pleased to welcome you into this new era of hope,” Optimus finished, turning back around. “Do you have any requests or concerns?”

The Hippie Club, completely lost, began applauding with fervor.

“Yay!” Arthur shouted.

“Um, freedom is the right of all sentient beings?” Starscream tried. 

Optimus looked like he was going to cry tears of happiness. Starscream wondered if he’d ever successfully ‘redeemed’ anyone before.

“Go forth and enjoy your freedom!” The Prime declared.

“ _ Within the bounds of the law! _ ” Ultra Magnus shouted from the entrance to the prison. 

“... Within the bounds of the law,” Optimus agreed. 

Starscream grinned and grabbed Steve’s servo. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optimus is a Drama Queen, and I absolutely adore him.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


	40. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is doing alright.
> 
> Warning: sexual themes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking shit, I did NOT anticipate that this would take forty chapters to complete! In fact, given my track record with projects, I didn’t think I’d finish this at all! 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for all your feedback and support, I could not have done this without you cheering me on. Y’all are the best bunch of readers an author could ask for. 
> 
> Here’s the epilogue!!!!

The therapist wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from his upcoming appointment with Starscream, given all that had occurred since they had last spoken.

Perhaps for him to be overjoyed from being allowed parole, or maybe in the middle of some sort of crisis, given the way he usually behaved. 

Certainly not the quiet, spacey,  _ well-behaved  _ little weirdo that seemed to have killed him and taken his place.

The seeker slumped onto the couch in the therapist’s new office and tucked his legs up close to his chest. 

“Hello, Starscream,” the therapist said. “Is everything alright?” 

The seeker regarded him thoughtfully.

“You know, Doctor,” he said, resting his chin between his knees, “I don’t believe I ever caught your name. Funny, right? It’s been a year!” His wings dipped low on his back. “I suppose it was rather rude of me to never ask.” 

The therapist blinked.

“Oh!” He said. “It’s Clinicus.” Starscream nodded absently.

“Well, Clinicus, I believe I...” He trailed off, staring at the ground. “I... I owe you an... Um. An apology.” He swallowed. “So. I’m sorry. For being kind of an aft that one time. You know, when I tried it cut ties with you? That one.” 

The therapist smiled hard enough for his face to start hurting. Starscream risked a glance in his direction, then balked.

“What are you looking at me like _that_ for?!” He squawked. “I just bared my vulnerabilities to you, you absolute-”

“Starscream,” Clinicus said, smile unwavering, “you’ve come so far this past year. I want you to know that I’m so  _fragging proud_ of you. You’re doing  _amazing_.”

Starscream froze.

“Oh,” he said quietly, beginning to tremble. “That’s- that’s nice.” His voice cracked. He buried his face in his knees with a high whine, and Clinicus heard muffled, ugly sobs.

“Oh, hey,” he cooed, getting to kneel in front of his patient. “I’m sorry. Did I say something upsetting?” 

Starscream cried harder.

“Stop- stop being so nice!” He blubbered. “You’re making it wor-  _ worse!_” 

Clinicus nodded and returned to his seat.

“Alright,” he said. “Would you like to talk about anything else?” 

Starscream hiccuped and nodded, trying very hard to regain his composure. Clinicus smiled. 

“Okay. How has your day been so far?” Starscream grabbed a nearby pillow and clutched it to his chest. 

“It’s been- it’s been good,” he choked out, wiping furiously at the coolant beading up in his brightened optics. Clinicus nodded.

“Good,” he said, “I’m glad to hear it.” 

Starscream buried his face into the pillow and wailed. Clinicus’s smile grew concerned.

_ Baby steps. _

...

The apartment that had been given to them was less than upscale. 

It was cramped, had suspicious stains all over the place, and the walls were thin enough that one could hear everything their neighbors shouted.

Given that they lived next to Weird Brenda, that became something of a nuisance. 

Its only redeeming qualities were that it had a balcony, and a somewhat decent view of the rest of the city, Starscream decided. 

Oh- and Steve. Steve was also an important part of the equation. 

Starscream leaned against the railing, wishing desperately that he could forget his embarrassing emotional breakdown during his appointment with Clinicus. Thanks to Optimus’s meddling, he’d have to face him again once every decacycle for the foreseeable future. 

_ Ugh. _

A small, pathetic little breeze drifted past him, having been choked of its strength by the densely-packed surrounding buildings obstructing its path. Starscream fluttered his wings unsconsciously, savoring its smooth glide over his plating. 

He’d missed the little moments like this, away from all of life’s drama and problems-

_ Bang! _

“Starscream!” Steve shouted joyfully, flooding the night with the apartment’s warm light. “Guess who just died of a _rust infection~!_” 

Starscream straightened, wings perking up.

“ _ No _ ,” he said, fighting the smile that curled at the corners of his mouth. Steve pumped his fist in the air. 

“You’d better believe it, baby!” He exclaimed, unsubspacing a datapad. “Ol’ Buckethead finally kicked the bucket!” 

Starscream cackled. 

“_Buckethead!_” He cried, curling over the railing. “Oh, how have I never  heard that?” 

Steve propped his datapad against the wall and pressed a few buttons, and earth music blasted out of its cheap, poorly-made speakers. 

“ _ I like big butts and I cannot lie, them other brothers can’t deny- _ ”

“What is this racket?!” Starscream shouted over the din.

“Celebration music!” Steve replied, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him into some sort of weird, improvised pseudo-waltz. “Knockout told me it’s apparently very romantic. Consider it a reward for yours truly for taking care your  _ pest problem!_” 

Starscream shook with peals of laughter, gripping Steve’s shoulders so he didn’t fall over. Suddenly, the vehicon lowered him into french dip and pulled him into a kiss. 

“ _ My anaconda don’t want none- _ ”

“Shut the frag up, you aftheads! It’s the  _ middle of the night!_” Someone shouted from a few stories down. 

Steve and Starscream froze, then parted sheepishly. The vehicon stepped back and accidentally kicked the datapad through the railing of the balcony.

“ _ My anaconda don’t- my anaconda don’t- _ ”

_ Crack! _

“Scrap,” Steve hissed. “I was borrowing that from Knockout!”

Starscream rolled his optics in amusement, then hooked a digit under Steve’s chin.

“Nevermind that,” he purred. “I can think of a few other ways to  _reward_ you. ” 

Steve stiffened, then quickly tugged him back inside. 

“Yes!” The vehicon cheered. “But  _ you _ have to spike  _ me  _ this time. It’s been  _ forever _ since I got to use my valve!” He shivered. “Also, you are  _ crazy  _ strong, and sometimes a mech just needs to get pinned against something horizontal for self-care reasons.” 

Starscream chuckled and allowed himself to be pulled along into the berthroom. 

“So  _demanding_,” he teased, “but I supposed you’ve earned it.” 

Steve did a little happy dance before flopping backwards onto the berth.

“Let’s do this!” He cheered. Starscream laughed, climbing on top of him.

“You’re  _ ridiculous_,” he muttered fondly. “I love you.” 

Steve paused, and his visor dimmed. 

“I love you, too,” he said softly, looping his arms over Starscream’s shoulders. 

They stayed like that a moment, staring into each other’s optics, before Starscream awkwardly reset his vocalizer. 

“Well, that’s enough of  _ that!_” He declared,straddling Steve’s hips. “It‘s time to give Weird Brenda a taste of her own medicine!” 

The vehicon whooped and pulled the seeker into a kiss, wrapping his legs around his waist. 

Starscream’s apartment was ugly, tiny, and had about as much privacy as a public restroom, but Steve more than made up for that.  Even if he made him listen to weird human music and stole his art supplies, something about him simply made Starscream feel somewhat at peace.

It was  _ nice_.

_ Perhaps there is something to be said for disgusting, Autobot-esque sentiment, after all_ , Starscream mused, completely ignoring the irritated wall-thumping coming from his neighbors on all sides. 

Somehow, life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally named the fucking therapist. Do you want to know how?
> 
> I went on to google translate and looked up ‘therapist’ in Latin. I’m so bad at naming cybertronians lmao
> 
> Also, epiloguing is hard!!! Sorry it took awhile.
> 
> And Steve finally got to dance with Starscream under moonlight. Intimately. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for reading, y’all!!!!! I’m so thankful for all of you.
> 
> Also, I humbly request validation in the comments because I put a huge amount of time and effort into this story and I deserve nice things. (I’m kidding lmao, do what you want....... unless? 👀👀)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Whirl Reviews: The Hippie Cult](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749755) by [WhirlReviews (NotSoMetalKnightmare)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoMetalKnightmare/pseuds/WhirlReviews)
  * [The Hippie Cult [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219027) by [chrome_dome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrome_dome/pseuds/chrome_dome)


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